


Little white moment

by DefaultJane



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Caretaking, Drinking & Talking, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn, Snowed In, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-09-27 01:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 51,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17152787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaultJane/pseuds/DefaultJane
Summary: Helena and Hunnigan end up in a classic setting of "snowed in and only have one bed to share"-situation because Hunnigan insists on winning a race between agents to the cabin in the woods despite the approaching snow storm. It's all fun and games until someone suffers a flashback. Helena's painful past comes back to haunt her, and it isn't long until she finds herself in all sorts of trouble, and despite Helena's objections, Hunnigan does everything in her power to keep her beloved safe, even if it means overstepping some boundaries.





	1. Chapter 1

Hunnigan wasn’t one to usually participate in the “team spirit building days” that director Shepard liked to arrange at least once a year (usually around December since he loved combining the office Christmas party into the same event, like he had this year). “Team spirit building day” was a fancy way of saying “Let’s do an activity together for an hour and then get drunk, the D.S.O. is buying”. Contrary to what people thought, Hunnigan wasn’t against the events because they were a gross misuse of taxpayer money; she was against all forced socializing, always had been. Getting stuck in a room with a bunch of (eventually drunk) colleagues wasn’t what she considered “fun”. 

This year, she’d made an exception after hearing that the mission would be to hike up to a cabin in the woods and then spend the night there, get drunk, and get a ride back home in the morning. Truthfully, she’d done it to protect Helena. She didn’t think anything unseemly would happen at the cabin between all the agents, but she knew Helena was still considered a newbie at the very least, or at the worst, some still considered her a traitor to the country for her involvement regarding the events that led to the President’s death.

And that all in the most petty possible way summed up to Helena being forced to do the “team work” alone and hike up to the cabin by herself. Helena was the only one who hadn’t been assigned a partner to work with at the agency, and she’d seemed rather pleased about it to be honest, but like the agents’ daily work, this too could get dangerous if attempted alone.  

They weren’t all going to just walk up a neat little path for twenty minutes and end up at a luxury cabin, where would be the challenge in that? Each of the six pairs of agents were to be dropped off at undisclosed locations in the woods and they’d be given the same tools to navigate their way to the cabin, whoever got there first won the race and got to sleep in the bed... because it wasn’t a luxury cabin, it was what could be sold with the word “comfy”, which was a nicer way of saying it was about the size of a shoe box and had only one bed; the pairs coming in second or later would have to settle for sleeping bags on the floor. 

All the agents wore a GPS tracker so they could be found if they did manage to get themselves lost, so that was a thin comfort of sorts, but Hunnigan had no intention of losing the race. Everyone was expecting her to, of course they were, she wasn’t even a field agent, but she was determined to make sure that after this year’s event, no one would ever underestimate a competitive and skilled (if only in theory) desk jockey. 

The agents were mixed up a little so that everyone had someone else’s partner for today, an exercise to encourage making friends with other people than just the ones you saw daily. Hunnigan made her way over to Helena before it would become obvious no one else would. Not getting picked had a way to hurt in more ways that one would imagine such a small act of being excluded would.

_ Or maybe I’m just projecting my own insecurities, and Helena would be just fine without me, _ Hunnigan mused. Way back when she’d been the runt with the glasses, she’d accumulated a ton of experience on being the last one to get picked and on just how bad it felt. That was also when she’d learned she had a burning passion to show everyone what happened when you underestimated Ingrid Lee Hunnigan. Most of the time she got her chance to show off by managing to be the one who had saved the game by to scoring the one more point the team had needed to win. Not always, that kind of thing only happened in inspirational Lifetime-movies. 

Hunnigan hadn’t noticed how ridiculously competitive she could be until she’d realized she’d spent most of her youth playing sports just for the joy of proving everyone wrong, not because she’d particularly enjoyed the game. She still remembered the moment it had dawned on her. After her growth spurt, it had become all too obvious that basketball was the sport she should be playing, because what else could a 6′ 1″ girl do, she sure as hell wasn’t going to be a figure skater or a ballet dancer (at least that was how her mother had presented the case to her). It had made sense at the time, she hadn’t been bad at the game, on the contrary, it was what had earned her a scholarship, but her main motivation to play was gone when she realized she had nothing to prove. 

_ I am not enjoying this at all. _

The thought had sped through her mind with the subtlety and force of a freight train after a game her team had won. She’d never enjoyed the sport as much as she’d enjoyed proving people wrong (a charming personality trait in anyone, she was sure), but there was no one to prove wrong anymore because no one was underestimating her. If anything, it was the other way around, they expected her to do a great job just because she was the tall girl. Meeting people’s unwanted expectations wasn’t much of an incentive. 

So, she’d quit and focused on doing things she enjoyed, things that challenged her enough to keep her interested. There wasn’t much use for her competitiveness in her line of work, but when an opportunity for clear, direct competition (such as a little race to the cabin in the woods - intentionally ominous, director Shepard had found it hilarious but he was a strange man in many ways) was there, she wasn’t about to pass it up, especially because she knew no one would expect her to win the race. 

_ Well, me and Helena. The two underdogs with a vicious bite. Team work for the win. Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself, maybe she doesn’t care enough to make an effort to win and then I’ll be pissed off, _ Hunnigan mused as she and Helena were dropped off at their starting location. 

“Three minutes and we can move,” Helena said after checking her watch.  
“Okay. Ready to kick some ass?” Hunnigan asked and Helena chuckled. 

“I’ll hold them down, you beat them up.”

* * *

Helena admitted she wasn’t at her best currently; after what had happened this summer, she’d spent a lot of time slumped in a depression which had manifested as her not bothering to take care of herself like she’d used to. She’d eaten poorly, drank too much, smoked too many cigarettes, and half-assed her training sessions during the three days of the week when close quarter combat-training and other physical fitness-training were mandatory at the agency. She hadn’t begun getting better about it until a couple of weeks ago, and months of inactivity were showing easily. 

“Would you slow the hell down?” Helena humphed as she tried to keep up with Hunnigan who vaulted herself over a fallen log with ease, her legs not even touching the layer of fluffy snow on top of it.  
“I’d rather you hurried up,” Hunnigan responded but paused to wait for Helena to make her way over the log as well, only she didn’t do quite as graceful a job of it as Hunnigan had done. 

“It’s easy for you to say, you’ve got legs up to your tits, I gotta take three steps where you only gotta take one,” Helena argued and defiantly stopped to dig a bottle of water from her backpack and took a long swig from it as Hunnigan stood by, impatiently shifting her weight from one long leg to the other. 

“We’re almost there, the sooner you hurry up and move, to sooner we get to the cabin.”

Helena agreed that she’d rather get there before it got really dark and before the wind escalated to a storm, it was unpleasant as it was, the force of it turning the flakes of snow into icy needles that pelted her face. Within the next half an hour, it had turned into a full-blown storm, Helena and Hunnigan making it to the cabin barely before the worst of the storm hit. 

“Well, look at that, we’re the first ones here,” Hunnigan said rather happily. 

“I bet the others turned back when they saw the storm coming,” Helena mumbled. Considering how fast Hunnigan had insisted they make their way over to the cabin, Helena was ready to assume the others had barely gotten started making their way over when the storm had hit since Hunnigan was probably the only one who had actually cared about winning the race. Helena was willing to bet serious money that Leon was still at the drop off point with Sherry, getting drunk while Sherry busied herself by texting with Jake Muller. 

“Maybe so, but I don’t care; I win, I rule,” Hunnigan said and did what Helena assumed was her victory dance, and the way she moved would’ve made Michael Jackson proud. Helena chuckled and kicked off her shoes before removing her jacket. 

“Well, Shepard certainly put some effort to catering,” Helena said as she looked around the kitchenette. There were several bags of various chips on the counter, a few cases of beer on the floor, various bottles of rum, vodka and whiskey, several large bottles of soda, and three gallons of water. She peeked into the fridge and found milk, butter, cheese, and a large tray of lasagna, covered in plastic wrap. She assumed Shepard had intended for that to be dinner once everyone had made it to the cabin. 

“Oh, great,” Hunnigan said sarcastically from across the room. She sat on the couch, her legs crossed, one foot tucked under her thigh for warmth while she rubbed the other with her hand, holding her phone in the other.  
“What’s wrong?” Helena inquired and grabbed a beer from the fridge and replaced it with a warm one. 

“Shepard sent a message to go back because the storm is supposedly going to get really bad.”  
“Well, seems we were right about the others then.”

“I let him know we’re already here, so they won’t worry or waste time looking for us, and he said it might take a day or two before they can come pick us up.”  
“There’s plenty to eat and drink, I think we’ll be fine. Or we can probably try hiking back in the morning if you feel like it? I have full confidence in your navigational skills,” Helena smirked.

“Yeah, maybe. Let’s see how it goes in the morning,” Hunnigan said and put the phone away.  
“Indeed, so how about we just relax and enjoy winning the race, huh?” Helena suggested and offered Hunnigan a can of beer.  
“Cheers.”

***


	2. Chapter 2

“Okay, okay... never have I ever... gone ass-to-mouth,” Helena said and Hunnigan raised the can of beer as if to take a drink, which was the way of saying “I have done that” according to the rules of the game. Helena’s eyes widened at the gesture.  
“I’m joking!” Hunnigan laughed and put the can down.

“I’m not sure I believe you,” Helena smirked.  
“As if I would ever do something like that. Besides, my ass is exit only.”

“Who said it had to be your ass?” Helena quirked an eyebrow.  
“Ew, that’s nasty!” Hunnigan laughed, finished her beer and popped open another one. They’d been drinking for a couple of hours now and they’d finished the cold ones in the fridge, but at this point, the temperature of the beer didn’t really matter.

“Never have I ever... been arrested,” Hunnigan then said and Helena drank from her beer.  
“I was thirteen and shoplifting, but I only took food and candy so I just got a small fine for it,” she explained. “Never have I ever needed glasses.”

“Low blow,” Hunnigan scoffed and drank from her beer. “Never have I ever shoplifted,” she then shot back and Helena chuckled.

“I’m running out of things I haven’t done,” Helena said and belched from the corner of her mouth, not bothering with manners at this point of the night, she was relatively certain Hunnigan was more than familiar with normal bodily functions that followed from drinking excessive amounts of beer.

“Same, maybe we should switch to another game.”  
“Who would you rather have sex with: Leon or Shepard?” Helena began and Hunnigan snorted, a dribble of beer leaking from her nose.

“Um... don’t tell this to him, but Leon. I have a valid reason for why him,” Hunnigan answered and wiped her face with her hand.  
“Which is?”

“Shepard comes across as the type of a man who would be like ‘I’m gonna fuck you so hard your womb ends up in your ribcage!’ and that would kill me. Whereas Leon comes across as the type of a guy who would actually take direction,” Hunnigan explained, and Helena burst out laughing.

“I see your point.”  
“What about you, who would you rather?”

“Neither.”  
“Come on, that’s not how this game works!”

“You’re just bummed out because you didn’t think to say that when I asked,” Helena taunted.  
“No, I’m bummed because you’re not playing by the rules,” Hunnigan said.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t sleep with either one because I’m a lesbian the thought of any guy trying to put his dick in me grosses me out and, frankly, makes me a bit angry. I’m sorry, but dicks are nasty-looking. Not to mention I’ve heard too many horror stories about men and their lack of basic hygiene to be able to even look at a man without assuming he’s got skid marks in his undies,” Helena made a face.

“Well, you’re probably not completely wrong,” Hunnigan chuckled. “But I will say my ex-husband has a beautiful penis.”  
“Are you trying to make me throw up?”

“I’m serious! It wasn’t too vein-y or oddly discolored  or weirdly shaped like most of the dicks I’ve had the displeasure of seeing.”  
“See a lot of dicks then?” Helena smirked.

“I don’t understand why men think women want to see their dicks, but I hope I scared a few guys badly enough to discourage them from ever sending unsolicited dickpics again.”  
“Oh yeah? What did you do?”

“I responded with a picture of a used tampon.”  
“That is genius,” Helena laughed.

“I thought so too until I ran into a guy who asked me to send more. And that’s when I quit trying to date online,” Hunnigan chuckled.  
“Once again, I am so... so happy I’m a lesbian.”

"So, you're saying women can't be nasty? Because I refuse to believe that."  
"No, you're right, women can be just as bad, or at least very nearly as bad," Helena trailed off, becoming oddly serious suddenly. Hunnigan frowned and was about to question it when the lights flickered and the power went out.

The cabin was equipped with most modern amenities but there was also a wood-burning stove which doubled as a heater for the winter, a fact for which Helena and Hunnigan became very grateful for rather quickly.

“Well, now I’m thinking we shouldn’t have had that much beer considering how easily it runs through you,” Helena pursed her lips and slowly began to make her way over to her backpack to dig out a flashlight.  
“You do realize toilets work with gravity and water, not electricity?” Hunnigan pointed out.

“Yes, but the pump which gets water from the well and into the tank from which the toilet gets its water works with electricity, meaning that once that tank is empty, we’re outta water,” Helena explained, turned the flashlight on and pointed it toward the ceiling, the light reflecting from the wood illuminating the entire room.

“Oh, crap, you’re right. Well, if it’s any consolation, the pump did just go off not long ago, so the tank’s probably nearly full.”  
“That’s good news, we’ll just have to ration the water,” Helena nodded and went to grab a few pieces of firewood from the large wooden crate set in the corner of the room.

“It’ll be fine, besides, I’m tired, I think I’ll just call it a night, so I won’t be wasting any more water today,” Hunnigan shrugged as Helena worked to light a fire in the pit to keep the cabin warm through the night.  
“That works,” she nodded and closed the cast iron hatch once she’d gotten the fire going. Hunnigan disappeared into the small bathroom to brush her teeth while Helena went to unroll her sleeping bag.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” Hunnigan said when she emerged from the room and saw what she was doing.  
“I wasn’t planning to, there’s a perfectly good couch right here,” Helena chuckled.

“I meant we can share the bed if you want,” Hunnigan rolled her eyes.  
“It’s fine. We got here early because you have a disturbingly wide competitive streak, so the bed’s all yours, you’ve earned it,” Helena smiled.

“Suit yourself.  Good night,” Hunnigan said and went to the bedroom.

Helena folded her jacket into a makeshift pillow, slipped into the sleeping bag and zipped it up. She closed her eyes, silently wondering how long it would take before the cabin would get cold. Judging from the draft, not very long after the fire was burnt out. Wood popped and shifted in the stove. The wind made quiet whistling sounds as it rattled through the small cracks in the walls, the noise of it melding into the soft hum of the flames. Helena relaxed and let the sounds drift her off to sleep.

* * *

Hunnigan was the first to wake up, feeling a bit thirsty thanks to drinking last night, and feeling more than a bit cold. The fire had been out hours ago and the cold wind had stolen the warmth from the cabin shortly after. She got up, got dressed and grabbed the blanket, draping it over her shoulders and wrapping it around herself.

“Oh, damn...” she exclaimed quietly when she emerged from the bedroom and realized it had been snowing the entire night and there was a pile of the white fluff reaching up high enough to cover the windows nearly completely.

“What?” Helena jolted awake and sat upright in an instant, her hand reaching toward the small coffee table on which she’d left her handgun. Hunnigan didn’t question why Helena evidently couldn’t sleep without having a loaded gun nearby, but she was relatively certain it had something to do with Helena’s traumatic experience of having been kidnapped in the middle of the night from her home by Simmons’s men.

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere for a while,” Hunnigan nodded toward the windows. Helena put the gun away and ran a hand over her face, pausing to vigorously rub her eyes.  
“Well, we could dig our way out I guess,” she suggested and yawned. Hunnigan went to the door and examined it for a moment.

“Yeah, except the door opens outward meaning it’s blocked,” she said and confirmed her suspicion by trying to push the door open. It didn’t budge.  
“I could remove the door from its hinges if I can find something to use as a tool.”

“Another good idea except the hinges’ screws are accessible only if the door is open,” Hunnigan pointed out.  
“At least tell me the power is back on.”

“I haven’t checked, but I’m guessing it isn’t. It’s too quiet.”  
“Quiet?”

“Yeah. There’s a very subtle high pitched noise that’s present when there’s power, you wouldn’t notice it until it’s gone and you realize how quiet it is... like right now,” Hunnigan said and flicked the light switch back and forth to make sure. The light remained off.

“So, I guess we’re stuck here for a while longer,” Helena mumbled, stood up and stretched, her T-shirt hitching halfway up her midsection as she raised her arms, revealing a row of scars crossing diagonally across her abdomen, healed puncture wounds which looked rather severe, leaving Hunnigan wondering how Helena had not gotten ripped to shreds by whatever had caused them. Helena noticed Hunnigan’s stare and tugged the hem of her shirt down.

“I got these back in Tall Oaks when Leon and I almost got eaten by some weird mutated fish-shark-thing,” she explained and shuddered involuntarily at the memory of being dragged underwater by the creature.  
“Yes, I remember reading about it in your report, but I hadn’t realized how bad it was,” Hunnigan said.

“Yeah, well... I lived,” Helena dismissed with a chuckle, excused herself and headed over into the bathroom while Hunnigan went to get the fire going again. After managing it, she rummaged through the cabinets in the kitchenette, growing increasingly worried when it was beginning to look like she wouldn’t find any coffee.

“There you are!” she sighed in relief when she found the unopened package in the back of the cabinet behind the eggs, flour, bread, sugar and jam.  
“I think we need to find a cold spot for the stuff in the fridge, the last thing we need is for the food to spoil,” Helena mumbled after emerging from the bathroom.

“The bedroom has a narrow ventilation window which opens inward, we could put some stuff on the window pane.”  
“Excellent,” Helena agreed and opened the fridge, took out the food and carried it to the other room.

Hunnigan put water into a pot and left it on the stove while she detached the filter basket from the coffee maker and prepared the grounds. Once the water boiled, she held the basket over the decanter and poured water over the grounds, and waited for it to drip through.

“Here you go,” she smiled and handed a mug of coffee to Helena once it had finished brewing.  
“Oh, nice, thank you!” the younger woman accepted it happily and returned to the bedroom to pour some milk into her mug. Hunnigan drank her coffee black. She went to the table by the window and grabbed her phone. There was no service.

“Damn it,” she sighed and switched the phone to power saving mode.  
“What’s wrong?”

“Phone’s out. How’s yours?”  
“Useless as well,” Helena said after checking. “But, Shepard knows we’re here, I’m sure he’s working to get us extracted as we speak. Granted, it might take a while since it seems the storm isn’t letting up,” she then said and took a seat at the chair by the table.

“I know, I’m not worried about that. Frankly, I’m enjoying the chance to take a break,” Hunnigan said and sat on the table, peering outside over the generous amount of snow piled over the window.  
“So, what’s the problem?” Helena inquired.

“I was supposed to call my son. I don’t think Shepard’s necessarily realized to inform Major about the situation, so they might not know I’m out of reach for now...”  
“Major who?” Helena frowned, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Hunnigan had a child; she couldn’t say why but Hunnigan wasn’t the kind of a person who came across as the motherly-type. Granted, Helena had to admit she hadn’t known Hunnigan very well or very long, so she probably wasn’t in a position to make accurate assumptions about her.

“Major as in the ex with the beautiful penis I told you about,” Hunnigan elaborated with a smirk.  
“His name is Major?”

“I know, I know, don’t look at me, I didn’t name him,” Hunnigan chuckled into her coffee before taking a sip.  
“Does he have a little brother named Minor?” Helena asked and Hunnigan’s laughter erupted as a sharp exhale through her nose which sprayed coffee back over her face.

“Oh, God,” she coughed and laughed as she wiped her face with the back of her hand.

“So, you and Major Pretty Cock have a kid?” Helena inquired after Hunnigan had gotten herself together, and Hunnigan nodded. She unlocked her phone and dug up the photos.

“His name is Seeley, he’s two years old,” she said and showed Helena a picture of the child. In the photo, he sat on the floor on a colorful carpet, a generous amount of large Lego blocks scattered around him. He was smiling happily to the camera from behind his fist which he appeared to be trying to fit into his mouth whole.

“He looks so much like you it’s absurd,” Helena smirked and Hunnigan laughed.  
“Yeah, well, at least I know for sure that he’s mine,” she jested.

“So, considering how young Seeley is, I’m assuming your divorce is recent.”

“Major and I were divorced before I even realized I was expecting. Seeley was conceived during one of those classic ‘Let’s have sex once more for old times’ sake before I move out the last box of my things’-occasions. Admittedly, not one of my proudest moments, but I have no regrets regardless,” Hunnigan disclosed, unsure why she told all of this to Helena, it wasn’t like her to divulge personal information (especially if it was this sensitive) to another with such ease.

“Was it a messy divorce?” Helena asked and took a sip of her coffee. It was beginning to get cold.  
“No, there were no hard feelings or drama, we just... went our separate ways.”

“Oh, come on, that’s boring, didn’t you fight even just a little?” Helena teased and Hunnigan smiled.  
“Occasionally we argued over little things, sure, but no fighting. I think that was part of the problem.”

“How so?” Helena frowned.  
“Because there was no passion, I’m passionate only after someone brings it out in me. Like, normally, I’m lukewarm, but I can be brought to a boil. He just never did that because Major is exactly the same as I am in that respect, so there was no fire, no energy, no passion. A marriage between two bores is bland.”

“I get it, I’m the opposite, I’m likely to boil over unless someone cools me down.”  
“Well, I did once threaten to burn down a diner after they served my onion rings smothered in ketchup, but I was pregnant at the time, so it was probably just the hormones,” Hunnigan recalled and Helena laughed at the mental image of Hunnigan doing that.

“I’ve never before heard about a couple breaking up because they _don’t_ fight.”  
“Hah, maybe so, but that’s what happened,” Hunnigan smiled.

“How long were you two together?”  
“About ten years. Imagine how shocked and appalled my parents were when we divorced. After all, there is something so very pathetic about a divorced woman near her mid-thirties, especially if she has a kid,” Hunnigan rolled her eyes at the memory of the remarks her mother had made.

“Let me guess; it went something along the lines of ‘who’s gonna have you now’ and ‘he’s a good man and a good father, who cares about passion’. How am I doing?”  
“Eerily well, spoken like someone who has experience on the matter,” Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.

“For me the commentary went something along the lines of ‘just find yourself a nice young man to look after you and forget this nonsense about liking girls, it’s unnatural’. I find young men unnatural,” Helena said.  
“All I can really say from personal experience is that you will like yourself better when you stop listening to other people when they tell you what you should like. It took me a long time to realize that,” Hunnigan said quietly.

“I’ll drink to that,” Helena said and clinked her coffee mug against Hunnigan’s.

“So, now that you’re up to date about my non-existent love life, you tell me about yours. Got a girl waiting for you at home?”  
“Naw. Where your problem was not enough passion, mine is the opposite; I have terrible temper and people don’t generally find that an attractive trait,” Helena smirked ruefully.

“If I ever figure out a way to trade personality traits with others, I’ll gladly give you some of my boring dispassion if you give me some of your fire.”  
“Deal,” Helena chuckled. She got up and went to add more wood into the stove to keep the cabin warm.

“What do you wanna do today? Not that there’s a lot we can do being stuck in here,” Hunnigan then asked. Helena pondered on it for a moment and grinned when an idea came to her.  
“Well, I know something that’ll keep us entertained for a couple of minutes,” she said as she rummaged through her backpack. She finally reached the object at the bottom and pulled it out.

“A book?”  
“Not just any book, a terrible romance novel.”

“You read romance novels?” Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow in disbelief.  
“Hey, don’t judge, they’re brilliant if they’re well-written, but sadly, a lot of them aren’t. That said, the bad ones are funny as hell. Just say the word and I will do a dramatic reading for your entertainment,” Helena said and wiggled her eyebrows.

“This has all the makings of a good time. Go for it.”

***


	3. Chapter 3

art commissioned from [devilsarm](http://devilsarm.tumblr.com/).

* * *

“‘ _I fingered and licked his nipples, and ran my tongue down his washboard abs. I undid the buttons of his jeans that had gotten too small for his manhood. He had a beautiful straight penis which pointed directly to the ceiling’,_ " Helena read and paused for a moment to glance at Hunnigan. "Did you write this?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"Even if I had, I'd never admit it,” Hunnigan laughed.  
"All right, where were we... _'His erection was huge and I wrapped my fingers around his love tool and more blood rushed into it. I began to take care of him with my hand and he moaned in French’_."

"How does one moan in French? I'm so confused right now. I thought I was fluent in French but I don't think I know how to moan in French,” Hunnigan interjected and Helena let out an amused scoff but didn’t comment.

_“'I bent over and licked the tip of his sweet love arrow. I was worried I wouldn't be able to fit his huge maleness into my mouth even but the excitement of the situation made it so easy that I managed to get his sword almost all the way, deeper than I ever had before. Lust fogged my mind and I sucked on his member faster until he picked me up. I straddled him and rubbed my passion-moistened petals against his-'"_

"Passion-moistened petals!" Hunnigan guffawed.  
"I know, right? Why not just say 'pussy' and be done with it."

“I'm not a fan of that word either, but I agree, it would be better than the petal-thing."  
"I'm sure it gets worse," Helena said, cleared her throat and continued reading.

" _'...passion-moistened petals against his penis and kissed him. He was a very good kisser and groped my ass while we kissed. I couldn't hold on any longer so I guided his fiery brand to my glistening portal. I began riding him faster, the length of his huge throbbing manhood rubbed my G-spot and I rubbed my clit with my fingers. He saw how close to coming I was and it aroused him even more. I began to moan-'_ "

"In French or English?" Hunnigan interjected and Helena smiled but didn't comment.

" _'...moan as the first wave of my orgasm reached me. It went on and on and my moans made him climax and we came together.'_ "

“C'est la chose la plus stupide que j'ai jamais entendue,” Hunnigan rolled her eyes.  
“Well, now you’re just showing off. Also, I understood none of that.”

Hunnigan smiled but made no effort to translate what she’d said, and Helena didn’t ask.  
“Are you hungry?” she then asked and Helena nodded, putting the book away. Hunnigan got up and checked the cabinets for the ingredients to make sure they had everything.

“Bring me the milk from the bedroom, would you?” she requested and Helena went to grab it while Hunnigan measured flour into a bowl and cracked a couple of eggs into it. She then added the milk, mixed it all together and added a pinch of salt.  
“We’ll have crêpes in no time,” she said and took out a cast iron skillet from the cabinet. “And they are going to be delicious, I guarantee it,” she added and Helena quirked an eyebrow.

“Oh, really?”  
“Yeah! You don’t know what tasty is until you’ve had crêpes cooked on wood stove and in a cast iron skillet with real butter, just like grandma used to make,” Hunnigan smiled.

“My grandma was an alcoholic and also a devout Catholic who believed it was okay to act like the devil himself for a week and then wash it all away once a week in Mass,” Helena mumbled.  
“Oh...” Hunnigan said softly, glancing at Helena, unsure what to say exactly.

“She didn’t like me because I kept getting in trouble and because I proudly proclaimed my lesbianism as soon as I was old enough to know what a lesbian is,” Helena scoffed. “She had a wooden hairbrush the size of a damn tennis racket, and she wasn’t afraid to use it when I misbehaved. Only, in her opinion, my existence was synonymous to misbehaving so I got hit a lot,” she continued and seemed to visibly snap out of the memories, straightening her back and sitting up properly.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she chortled awkwardly.  
“You can tell me anything,” Hunnigan assured and put the skillet onto the stove. She went to grab a stick of butter, unwrapped it and coated the skillet’s surface with butter before pouring in the batter. She then shook the skillet in a circular motion to spread the batter into an even, thin layer and let it cook.

“You know, as far as I know, the Catholic church doesn’t actually have anything against homosexuality, it’s the gay sex they consider a sin because it’s a selfish indulgence since there’s no chance of procreating. So, if you're celibate, you're fine as far as the church is concerned,” Hunnigan mused and flipped the crepe.  
“Well, shit, I wish I'd know that before. How did you get to be so knowledgeable about everything?” Helena chuckled softly. She could ask any random thing and Hunnigan would just know some fact about it for sure.

“I like proving people wrong which means I need to do a lot of research, and after all that trouble of learning the facts, they tend to stick with me,” Hunnigan explained, plated the crêpe and sprinkled some sugar on it while it was still hot, the grains melting on the surface of the thin pancake.

“I don’t think grandma would’ve really listened to facts, it wasn’t like her,” Helena laughed a little.

“So... what exactly happened to your parents?” Hunnigan inquired, hoping it wouldn’t be too forward. She had read Helena’s file and knew only that they had passed away when Helena had been five years old, but there hadn’t been details mentioned.

“They died in a car crash. When grandma would get drunk enough, she’d tell me my dad had done it on purpose. She didn’t say why he would’ve, but of course, it was implied that she believed it was somehow my fault.”  
“I seriously doubt she was right about that.”

“I agree, but you know how it is, sometimes the way a person’s mind works doesn’t make sense, so of course I believed her.”  
“Well, you have a point,” Hunnigan agreed quietly and stacked the second crêpe over the other before preparing a third.

“When I turned seventeen, grandma practically signed me up in the military before I’d even blown out the candles on my birthday cake. Kidding, I didn’t get a cake,” Helena smirked. She told Hunnigan she’d gone to Afghanistan, and Deborah had stayed with her friends before going to university and moving into the dorms. Eventually, her grandmother had passed away in her sleep, her heart had given out.

“I was sure her liver would be the first to go, but no. Better that way, I guess, at least she didn’t have to suffer,” Helena shrugged one shoulder a little, her tone of voice rather indifferent. Hunnigan couldn’t imagine it was easy to not wish ill toward someone who spent the entire time they knew you putting you down and being physically abusive.

“Enough about my sucky life, tell me about you,” Helena then said. Hunnigan finished the last crêpe and moved the skillet to the side before taking the plate over to the table by the window.  
“Oh, not a lot to tell,” Hunnigan began, went to grab milk to drink with their breakfast and brought over the jam from the cabinet.

“Indulge me, I know nothing of you,” Helena requested, spread strawberry jam on her crêpe and then rolled it up before taking a bite.  
“How far back do you wanna go?” Hunnigan chuckled.

“Well, start from your parents, what are they like?”  
“My parents emigrated from the Dominican Republic in the late seventies... and just as I’m saying this, I’m realizing I might just be an anchor baby,” Hunnigan smirked and Helena laughed a little.

“There are worse things to be. Also, you weren’t joking, these crêpes are to die for!” Helena exclaimed and began to devour a third one.  
“Glad you like them,” Hunnigan smiled. “My dad’s a cop and my mom’s a teacher. I have a younger brother, his name is Nolan. As for me, I studied programming in college and afterward I worked at the FBI as a network engineer before the DSO was formed and I was hand-picked to work there as an intelligence officer.”

“So, where does Major come in?” Helena grinned.  
“He’s an FBI special agent who goes around breaking up human trafficking rings and taking down drug cartels. You know, for someone who is so boring as a person, he has a very interesting job. Same can be said about me,” Hunnigan laughed and grabbed another crêpe.

“I don’t  think you’re boring.”  
“That’s because you’ve been stuck with me only for a day,” Hunnigan snorted amusedly.

* * *

“The bedroom is freezing,” Hunnigan gasped as she emerged from the room two seconds after entering.

“Well, we did use it as a fridge,” Helena laughed. She hadn’t gotten into her sleeping bag yet, she was still putting firewood into the stove for the night to keep them warm. The thermometer screwed on the wall by the window said the temperature had dropped to 5°F, Helena assumed it might be even lower since the thermometer was covered with a layer of snow which ironically could be keeping it warmer than it was.

“Bring the mattress over here,” Helena suggested.  
“I can’t, there isn’t one. I mean, there is a mattress topper over the box spring but it’s practically useless as far as comfort and support goes.”

“You can take the couch and I’ll sleep on the floor, I’ve got my sleeping pad with me, so I can use that and be fine.”  
“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t, I offered,” Helena smiled and grabbed her sleeping bag, preparing to move it onto the floor but Hunnigan put her hand over Helena’s arm.  
“Or, we could do the sensible thing and you give me the sleeping pad and put it over the almost useless mattress topper.”

“Or..! Or... wait for it...” Helena drawled and Hunnigan humphed, amused by the unnecessary dramatic pause.  
“Or you could just get in the sleeping bag with me, that way we’ll even keep each other warm through the night,” she finished her sentence and shrugged one shoulder a little.

“You’re going to regret inviting me when you realize my feet are icicles and nothing helps. I guess it’s because I’m so tall, my heart isn’t strong enough to pump blood way the hell down there.”  
“Not a problem,” Helena assured and dug into her backpack, rummaging around it for a moment before triumphantly pulling out a pair of dark gray wool socks. “Well, I mean, this helps with cold feet, not your heart,” she elaborated with a crooked smile.

“Unbelievable,” Hunnigan laughed.  
“Believe it,” Helena nodded and handed the socks to her. “I always come prepared. Hey, there’s a new way to pass the time; try to guess what’s in my backpack,” she chuckled then and stripped her outerwear before sliding into the sleeping bag.

“Something to do over coffee in the morning,” Hunnigan agreed and undressed too before putting on the socks.  
“Damn! You’re like... ripped!” Helena’s eyebrows rose when she got a chance to take in the fact that Hunnigan had a swimmer’s body. She didn’t even know why it had never occurred to her that Hunnigan would be the athletic type outside office hours and possess a fit body under the semi-boring gray suits.

“I do a lot of yoga because if I don’t, my back will kill me. When I was expecting Seeley, I had to stay at the hospital for a couple of weeks because I couldn’t walk. The way the pregnancy was reshaping my everything messed my back pretty badly and I had to use a walker to get around,” Hunnigan said and slipped into the sleeping bag.

“That sounds terrifying,” Helena said.

They took a moment to find a comfortable position and after a while of awkwardly shuffling and scooting around, they finally settled down, Hunnigan spooning Helena.

“It was, but once I passed the first trimester I was allowed to do yoga and other exercises, so that helped. Since then, it became kind of a hobby. Not that I have a lot of time for those nowadays with how my work is and with Seeley, but still.”  
“Well, I’m glad it works for you. Ah, this is good, you’re so warm and comfy,” Helena sighed, pressing her back tighter against Hunnigan.

“Right back at you. Good night,” Hunnigan smiled. Helena mumbled a response and closed her eyes. However, there was one thing she couldn’t let go without an adjustment. She interlaced her fingers with Hunnigan’s and moved her hand a little so that it was no longer resting over Helena’s lower abdomen.

Hunnigan didn’t seem to pay attention and Helena knew she was being ridiculous and a bit shallow, but truthfully, she didn’t want Hunnigan to be able to feel the round softness which had accumulated on her belly over the past few months. Helena knew she didn’t really look like she’d put on weight and most of it had gone to her breasts, and she also knew no one else would even care, but _she_ cared, and it made her oddly self-conscious.

It was silly. If the person who had gained weight were someone else, she wouldn’t give a good God damn because it didn’t matter, it didn’t change anything. But when it was herself, she was oddly embarrassed.

 _I’m being weird,_ she thought before drifting off the sleep, still holding Hunnigan’s hand in her own.

***


	4. Chapter 4

Helena woke up and blinked slowly as she took a moment to remember where she was. At some point in the night, she had turned around and was now facing Hunnigan, her head tucked underneath Hunnigan’s chin, their arms around each other. She then became aware of the fact that Hunnigan was gently stroking her back in slow, smooth movements. Helena smiled a little and closed her eyes for a while longer, deciding to take a moment to enjoy the warmth and coziness of being cuddled up with Hunnigan.

“You awake?” Hunnigan whispered.  
“Yeah.”

“Okay. I was worried, I think you were having a nightmare, but I didn’t want to wake you.”  
“I was? I don’t remember any of it,” Helena mumbled.

“Probably better that way. Sometimes when I have those, they leave me feeling all jittery for the entire day,” Hunnigan commented.

“Thanks for holding me, though.”  
“Anytime,” Hunnigan chuckled. “I do think I owe you an apology, you wouldn’t be stuck here if it weren’t for me,” she added.

“I’ve actually had a really good time, so I think I should be thanking you. I know you like think you’re boring, but actually, you’re really good company,” Helena smiled.  
“I’m sure you’ll change your mind if we end up being stuck in here for like a month,” Hunnigan jested and Helena pulled back a little to be able to look at her.

“I doubt that,” she said. “I need to use the bathroom but I don’t want to get up, I’m so warm and comfortable here,” she then sighed.

“Same,” Hunnigan said and also made no effort to get up. Helena noted Hunnigan was still caressing her back. She didn’t dare to mention it because she worried Hunnigan would stop if she did. Instead, she relaxed in Hunnigan’s arms, enjoying the warm hand caressing her skin.

“I know I’m staring, but I can’t help it, I’m only just now realizing how blue your eyes are, and that you have... like... eyelashes and everything,” Helena said sheepishly and Hunnigan laughed softly.  
“Most people do,” she pointed out.

“You know what I mean, I’m not used to seeing you without your glasses, they conceal details remarkably well,” Helena said. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” she then asked.  
“No,” Hunnigan said softly and smiled, “but I am contemplating on turning this into a competition.”

“You want to have a staring competition?” Helena laughed in disbelief.  
“Yes. The winner gets to stay in the warm comfortable sleeping bag while the loser has to get up, light the stove and make coffee.”

“All right, I’m game.”

“You’re going down, Harper.”  
“Phrasing!” Helena giggled and Hunnigan rolled her eyes.

“Ready? Go.”

Initially, staring right into another person’s eyes when they were barely an inch away was kind of funny because it was awkward, and they both found themselves laughing a little and smiling about it until their faces hurt. But after a while, it shifted from that to oddly intimate.

_I want to kiss her,_ Helena thought, and before she even fully knew what she was doing, she found herself leaning toward Hunnigan, intent on closing the gap between herself and the taller woman, and pressing their lips together.

“What’s that sound?” Hunnigan asked and turned her head toward it the door.  
“I... don’t... it sounds like an engine,” Helena mumbled, unsure if Hunnigan had realized her intention or not. She was disappointed at the interruption as much as she was grateful for it because she didn’t want to think what would’ve happened if she’d managed to kiss Hunnigan.

_What is wrong with me?_

“Huh, I guess Shepard finally found a way up here and the storm’s passed,” Hunnigan said and began to crawl out of the sleeping bag. Helena sighed and got up as well.

“You guys still breathin’?” director Shepard’s muffled voice came through the snow and the door shortly after the engine’s sound slowed to a steady idle rumble.  
“Yes, we’re fine, just stuck,” Hunnigan called out as she got dressed.

“Nothing to fear, Johnny’s here! We’ll get you out in no time,” Shepard said and the sound of shovels digging into the snow could be heard shortly after.

In a couple of hours, they’d been dug out, they’d cleaned up the cabin, packed their stuff, and were in the backseat of a snowcat Shepard was driving, the other agents who’d come to help taking the other one back.

“I hope you weren’t too traumatized,” Shepard said over his shoulder.  
“I can’t speak for Hunnigan, but I actually had a good time.”

“I did too, so don’t worry,” Hunnigan agreed.

Once back in town, Shepard informed them they’d need to spend the night at the local hotel since the roads back to the city were still partially blocked.

“I don’t mind, I just want a long, hot shower,” Helena told him when he apologized about the situation. She understood it wasn’t really his fault, apparently no one had predicted the severity of the snow storm, she couldn’t expect him to have either.  
“Same here,” Hunnigan said as she accepted the key to her room from Shepard who’d made the reservations and checked them in earlier.

Helena got in the shower and sighed a little as she squeezed a handful of shampoo out from the tiny bottle left on the shelf. The more she tried forcing herself to stop thinking about how she’d almost kissed Hunnigan, the harder it became to stop thinking about it.

_Why did I do that?_ she asked herself once more as she lathered her hair thoroughly.

_Oh, you know why. You’ve been touch starved your entire life, it’s no wonder you go from “Hello” to “I love you” the moment someone shows any affection for you,_ Deborah’s voice echoed in her mind.

“I refuse to be that obvious,” Helena answered it out loud, but of course, she knew it was probably true. That combined with her almost desperate need for validation from any authority figure didn’t leave much room for other possibilities which would explain in detail why she behaved the way she did.

It didn’t take a professional to figure out her need to please and impress stemmed from the fact that she’d never gotten praise or affection from the authority figure closest to her (namely, her grandmother) when she’d been a child. Add to that separation anxiety mottled with abandonment issues and a buttload of physical abuse laced with good old guilt over her sexuality spewed on her by the deranged alcoholic Helena spent her entire life trying to please in vain, it was a miracle she hadn’t turned out more fucked up than she had.

_And let’s not forget Sergeant Good’s influence on your messed upness._

Helena scoffed at the thought. Sergeant Good had been a highly regarded officer and Helena’s superior when she’d first enlisted. She’d also turned out to be a rapist. Helena still felt odd using that word about a female, but that was how it had been. Unless there was another word used to describe someone who performed sexual acts on another without their consent.

Helena had never reported it. It was the military, women were bluntly told they should practically expect to be raped at some point of their career; no one wanted to hear it, suck it up, princess, it’s what you signed up for. It was hard enough to convince someone to investigate when the rapists were male and there was evidence; Helena had known better than to make a fuss, reporting it would’ve gotten her laughed out of the army, you had to be a man to rape someone, and if you were and did, people were reluctant to believe that too.

Soldiers were supposed to be honorable men and women serving their country, their valor and integrity should never have to be questioned. That was what Helena too had naively thought before enlisting and seeing that soldiers were only human, and just like any other people, they could be cruel, mean, and abusive.

They were flawed heroes, but no one wanted to see that side of it all. Everyone was happy with the illusion that they were valiant idols to be worshipped for their sacrifices, and most of them were honorable men and women, but what so many failed to realize was that the title of a soldier didn’t magically transform a lout into an honorable person, quite the contrary; at its worst, the title gave a free pass to those looking for ways to get away with their depravity.

Helena suspected someone had come forward at some point because she’d later heard Sergeant Good had been given “other than an honorable discharge”, implying a whistle had been blown but nothing had stuck, so the army had just gotten rid of Good before she’d become a major PR problem. There were times when Helena regretted never saying anything because if she had, perhaps she could’ve saved a few others from having to get the same “Welcome to the army”-treatment from Sergeant Good as she’d gotten, but it was pointless to dwell on it now.

_None of this has anything to do with Hunnigan, though,_ Helena thought as she rinsed her hair.

_You sure about that? She took you under her wing and single-handedly saved you from the death penalty, you are grateful and want to make it up to her, but the only way you learned to thank people and gain their approval was through Sergeant Good’s actions because she was the first one in your life to tell you that you did well... as fucked up as the situation the compliment was given in was, it was still a compliment._

Helena sighed. It was messed up, but there was a lot of truth to the thought. When she’d looked back on it all later, Helena had realized Good had known exactly which words to use and which strings to pull to groom Helena. Like any other narcissistic psychopath, Good had been very convincing when she’d twisted it all around until Helena had believed her self-worth was measured by Good’s approval.

_Hunnigan’s not Sergeant Good but you crave her approval and the only way you learned to get it was by giving head and allowing yourself to be groped._

“Stop it!” Helena snapped at herself but the memory of being pinned against the sergeant’s desk, the tall officer’s unwanted touches offending her skin, the way her breath had sounded and smelled, everything was already coming back to her with force.

_“You have a cute little pussy, don’t you?”_

“Shut up!” Helena growled and punched the wall furiously, the tile breaking under the pressure but not before attempting to do Helena’s knuckle the same courtesy.

“Ow, cocksucking bitch!” she cursed at the pain that pulsed in her hand and radiated up her forearm, knowing full well she had no one to blame but herself and her knee-jerk reaction to punch something when she became agitated.

She got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around herself and grabbed a plastic bag before heading toward the door. She yanked it open and stepped outside with the intention to grab some snow into the bag and use it to press against the bruised knuckle to prevent swelling, but she literally walked into Hunnigan who’d been at her door, just about to knock.

“Oh, God, sorry, are you okay?” Hunnigan chuckled, her arm wrapping around Helena’s midsection to stabilize her when she faltered.  
“Yes, I’m fine, I just...” Helena mumbled into Hunnigan’s shoulder, stealing a moment to enjoy being held by Hunnigan. The pain in her hand and the cold wind assaulting her still wet skin yanked her back to reality soon enough, though.

“What are you doing here in just a towel?” Hunnigan frowned at her as she pulled back from the impromptu embrace. Helena told a white lie about how she’d gotten injured while slipping in the shower and explained she’d come to get snow for a cold compress. Hunnigan ordered her to go back inside and grabbed the snow for her.

“I came to give you your socks back,” Hunnigan then said as she sat next to Helena on the couch and handed her the bag of snow.  
“Nah, you can keep them, I have a feeling you’ll have more use for them, my blood circulation is fine,” Helena dismissed with a smile.

“How’s your hand, are you sure it’s not broken? Can you make a fist?” Hunnigan fussed and Helena slowly balled her hand into a fist, grunting at the pain but somewhat amused and warmed by the excess concern Hunnigan showed.  
“It hurts, but I can move it, I think it’s just bruised,” she said aloud then.

“Okay,” Hunnigan said and Helena knew she didn’t believe her lie about slipping for one second. She looked like she wanted to mention it, but decided against it, and for that, Helena was grateful.

“So. Shepard is still hell-bent on having an office Christmas party. Don’t ask me how, but he managed to reserve the ski lodge for it. Will you be there?” Hunnigan changed the subject.  
“Um... I don’t know. I’m not sure if I have my ugly Christmas sweater with me,” Helena said and Hunnigan cracked a smile.

“I thought you always came prepared and had at least that and possibly a fancy cocktail dress in your backpack.”

***


	5. Chapter 5

_Well, look at you,_ Helena scoffed internally at herself as she stood in the bathroom stall and stared at her stomach after buttoning up her jeans. In reality, she hadn’t gained more than ten pounds of weight over the past months and she knew it wasn’t anywhere near enough to put her even close to being overweight, but as minor as the swell in her abdomen was, it bothered her. It was an embarrassing manifestation of how she’d neglected herself. She, of all people. She knew better. She could _do_ better. But she had intentionally chosen not to. She had no excuse for putting on the weight, and that was what she hated about it the most.

She tugged the hem of her shirt down and was about to exit the stall when she heard two agents enter and a familiar name in their conversation caught her attention. She remained still and quirked an eyebrow, deciding to eavesdrop. It wasn’t her fault they didn’t think to check the stall.

“My problem is that Harper wasn’t prosecuted or at least fired,” a voice said, accompanied by the sound of high heels clicking on the tile floor and a shadow moving until the agent stopped in front of the row of sinks with her friend.  
“Cut her some slack, you make it sound like she’s incompetent,” the other agent scoffed.

“Who says she isn’t?”  
“Her record, she’s the top of her class at everything.”

“Yeah, according to Hunnigan. Everyone knows Harper’s her pet, or need I remind you of the gross abuse of discretion she displayed just to save Harper’s ass?”  
“And need I remind you that Hunnigan and Harper are the reason the person actually behind the treason was caught? I don’t see a problem with how the situation was handled.”

“Oh, please. Even you have to admit every other person would’ve been sent to the electric chair or at least gotten fired for doing half of the shit Harper did. Doesn’t it make you wonder?”  
“Wonder what?”

“Why Hunnigan is so quick to commit atrocities for her little pet,” the agitated woman said. Water drummed into the sink and the sound of paper towels being torn from the dispenser followed.  
“You’re paranoid.”

“And you’re gullible. Look, all I’m saying is I sure hope Harper’s cunt is worth risking the national security for.”  
“Don’t be gross.”

Helena balled her hands into tight fists, barely registering the pain in her right hand, the white hot fury bubbling inside her drowning it out. She was willing to swallow the anger over being accused of being incompetent or even over having her own integrity questioned, but she couldn’t tolerate them dragging Hunnigan into it.

Helena inhaled deeply through her nose and let it slip out past her lips in a long, shaky exhale. She imagined stepping out and grabbing the trash-talker by the hair and repeatedly slamming her head against the edge of the sink until there’d be nothing left but a messy pulp. She imagined tackling her down and stomping her teeth in. She imagined several increasingly violent scenarios, and then, for the first time in her life, she paused to consider the consequences of going through with any of them.

_Don’t do it. You can tell yourself you’re defending Hunnigan’s honor or whatever the hell it is you want to believe, but the truth is, you’re the only person who wants this. You are her protégé and your actions reflect on her, so for the love of God, don’t._

It was a strange limbo to be stuck in, between being so angry she felt physically ill and tingly all over with the need to explode into a homicidal rampage, and a certain calmness that was slowly washing over the fury, soothing it as she reminded herself of what going through with it would ultimately cost and how much better she’d be off if she just did not do it.

_Not to mention the collateral damage... namely, Hunnigan. It’s already a wonder she isn’t asking you the question “how dare you?” after all the trouble she has gone through just to get you where you are. How dare you after the accusations people like that bitch over there are throwing at her just because she’s stood by your side through the messes you’ve caused. You ungrateful fucking brat._

“Hunnigan’s straight, she has a kid for God’s sakes, I seriously doubt Harper’s had a chance to climb up her thigh for any favors.”  
“Bah, Shepard was straight too until he married Steve. You never know these days.”

“You’re seriously trying to tell me you honestly believe Hunnigan would jeopardize her integrity and her career for something as insignificant as sex?”  
“I’ve seen better do worse for less.”

Helena faked a smile and it quickly became genuine, but it ceased being a smile, it turned into a vicious grin, the kind the big bad wolf would have in a cartoon meant to terrify little children. It was the kind of a grin the unfortunate victims of deranged murderers saw before their life was taken away.

Helena unlocked the door and stepped out, her grin widening further when she saw how startled and uncomfortable the two agents became upon seeing her. The fragile framed agent with short black hair looked genuinely embarrassed whereas her taller and more solidly built friend looked surprised for half a second, but then utterly unapologetic, leading Helena to believe she’d been the trash talker. Helena commended her for not bothering to waste time trying to backpedal or explain it away which is what most probably would’ve done in the same situation.

Helena walked to the sinks across the room and washed her hands, the duo still awkwardly standing silently by the door, possibly waiting for Helena to confront them about what had been said.

“Ladies,” Helena smiled as she pushed past them and exited the bathroom, her tone of voice syrupy sweet and friendly, but her fists still firmly clenched as she restrained herself. Walking away that moment was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.

* * *

Helena felt like she should’ve left the party rather than stay and make a poor job of hiding the fact that she was avoiding Hunnigan, but at the same time, she didn’t want to admit defeat fully like that. However, coming up with excuses and trying to pretend she was busy chatting with people whose conversations she wasn’t interested in was quickly becoming exhausting. Not to mention it was dumb; Helena mentally kicked herself for ever being stupid enough to think Hunnigan wouldn’t realize she was avoiding her.

She could just explain herself, tell Hunnigan she was making an effort to stay away from her company to ensure the trash talking gossip wouldn’t have anything to speak of... but doing that would require her to explain what had led to this decision. She didn’t want to tell Hunnigan about what had been said. Odds were Hunnigan wouldn’t care, but Helena really did not want to repeat the words used.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re avoiding me or should I just keep trying to guess?” Hunnigan inquired when she appeared as if out of the blue right next to Helena who was standing by the bar.  
“I’m not avoiding you,” Helena lied unconvincingly.

“Okay,” Hunnigan shrugged one shoulder, her tone of voice light but also making it clear she didn’t believe Helena for one second. Instead of pressing the issue, Hunnigan ordered another drink and walked away immediately after getting it. Helena sighed deeply, feeling bad because she knew she’d just offended Hunnigan.

Helena remained at her spot and ordered another drink while the director got started on the “fun group activity” (which was a nicer way of saying “torture”) he’d come up with.

“It’s simple. You pick a song and you pick a singer for it. So it’s like...”  
“Kind of like Russian roulette karaoke?” Leon interjected and the rewarded his quip with scattered laughter.  
“Well, you’re not wrong,” Shepard chuckled.

_Oh, great,_ Helena grumbled internally. She was one of the people who vehemently believed karaoke should be made illegal. As a reward for his smartass comment, Shepard gave Leon the questionable honor of being the first to go.

_Huh, he’s not terrible,_ Helena admitted when he sang. On the contrary, he was rather good, he even managed a falsetto which sounded great, not something everyone could do, not even all the professional singers. Then again, Leon was the annoying kind of a guy who was good at almost everything, Helena didn’t know why she was even surprised.

“Hey,” a voice said over the sound of Leon’s singing. Helena looked up and saw the woman who’d tried defending her earlier to her friend in the ladies’ room. Helena couldn’t remember her name and right now didn’t even bother pretending she did.

“Hawke. Jeri Hawke,” she introduced herself upon noticing that. “And I didn’t mean to say that in the James Bond-style, I swear,” she then laughed a little and ran her hand through her hair awkwardly. It was black, the pixie cut styled to look messy, strands hanging over her impossibly turquoise eyes.

“Harper. Helena. But I guess you already knew that,” she smirked.   
“Yeah... I’m sorry about Skylark, she’s a bitter cunt who has to have something to complain about because she’s not happy unless she’s miserable,” Hawke said. Helena quirked an eyebrow.

“Harsh things to say about a friend.”  
“We’re not friends, we’re just partners, and now she thinks I’m her bestie because of that,” Hawke chuckled, shaking her head.

“Congratulations?” Helena shrugged one shoulder. She didn’t want to seem rude, but she didn’t really wish to carry the conversation on either. Hawke didn’t get the hint or then chose to ignore it.  
“Yeah, cheers, thanks a lot,” she scoffed amusedly. “For what it’s worth, she’s pretty much alone with her accusations regarding you.”

“I don’t care about me, but she has no right or reason to drag Hunnigan into my mess,” Helena snapped.  
“I’m not arguing,” Hawke said raising her hands into a small surrendering gesture. Helena didn’t comment. Hawke sighed a little and took the liberty of ordering Helena a drink too while ordering one for herself. Not that it could really count as buying an apology-drink since there was an open bar. Regardless, Helena didn’t see a reason to remain salty and accepted the gesture for what it was worth.

“...you wanna get out of here?” Hawke then asked.  
“Who doesn’t?” Helena chuckled and to emphasize her point, nodded toward the small stage where one of the male agents was butchering ABBA’s “Dancing queen”.

“No, I meant...” Hawke chuckled and leaned to rest her hand on Helena’s forearm, “...you wanna get out of here?” she repeated, emphasizing her words a little to get her meaning across. Helena’s gaze darted between the hand on her forearm and Hawke’s face for a moment before she finally managed to utter a word.

“Oh. I... I’m...” she stammered as she considered it.

She admitted she wouldn’t have minded having someone near her; cuddling with Hunnigan at the cabin had made her realize just how touch-starved she’d been. But when she thought of going through with it with Hawke, she couldn’t even really imagine it. Hawke seemed nice enough and she was a beautiful sight to behold, but Helena didn’t feel anything. No curiosity, no passion, no lust, nothing. Frankly, even the thought of sex kind of made her cringe, in her mind the act and everything associated with still blighted by Sergeant Good’s venom.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, given everything, you know...” she trailed off awkwardly.  
“All right. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Hawke smiled and to Helena’s relief, she seemed to genuinely not mind.

“It’s nothing personal, I just... you know,” she reassured just to be sure and Hawke nodded.  
“It’s okay, I get it. Don’t worry,” she said. “See you around,” she then winked and left the bar.

Helena took a drink and sighed into her glass as she did, sincerely hoping that what had just happened wouldn’t come back to bite her in the ass at some point.

_Well what the hell was I supposed to do, have sex with her even if I didn’t want to? How’s that any better than what happened between me and Good?_ she questioned her doubt.

The further stuck she got thinking about it, the more she realized that wasn’t the only reason. Yes, it was the main reason, but there was something else holding her back. She was touch-starved, yes, but she realized quickly enough that the only person whose touch she would accept was Hunnigan.

She would’ve wanted to rewind the past day back to the moment of when they’d been cuddled up in the sleeping bag together. She wanted to be back in that moment staring into Hunnigan’s blue-gray eyes that had a dim undertint of green, a shade which one wouldn’t notice when looking at her quickly through the tinted glasses she usually wore, but was visible when looking deep enough.

If Helena could do it again, she’d kiss her. Slowly. Lightly. With passion but gently.

_What makes you think she wouldn’t just pull back in disgust?_ the demeaning voice of Sergeant Good inquired in the back of Helena’s mind. She sighed and ordered another drink.

_What makes you think she’d want you? What makes you think anyone would want you? You’re beyond damaged, you’re angry and broken.You’re a fucking idiot if you even_ think _that she’d want to mess up her life further by keeping you around. What have you got to offer? What are you good for? Why would anyone want you?_

Helena downed her drink in a few long swallows before ordering yet another. The bartender gave her a glance but didn’t comment or cut her off, yet anyway. Helena ground her teeth and sighed internally once more. She didn’t have the energy to argue with the dark thoughts. It would be a battle she’d get into in vain because she already agreed with every single unpleasant remark.

_You don’t deserve to be cared for let alone loved, and the sooner you accept that no one will ever love you, the better off you’ll be._

“Here’s to you for being right all along,” Helena mumbled to the disembodied voice of Sergeant Good and raised her glass.

***


	6. Chapter 6

_Helena stood in Sergeant Good’s office, her back straight, her hands clasped behind her. She feverishly tried to think back on everything she’d done this past day as she tried to figure out what could be the reason she’d been called in so that the sergeant could “talk with her up close” as she’d put it, whatever that meant. Sergeant Good had never been exactly nice toward Helena, but that was something she’d known to expect. Hazing was something she’d assumed would happen, and so far it hadn’t been very horrible._

_Earlier today during a bunk inspection Sergeant Good had told Helena to make her bed again, and when she’d done it, Good had yanked the covers back and told her to do it again. This had repeated a total of thirteen times before Good had gotten bored toying with her and finally let it go. Before that, Good had resorted to a classic, making Helena scrub the bathroom’s floor using only a toothbrush. At least she hadn’t made Helena use her own toothbrush, that was a small comfort._

_Sergeant Good circled behind Helena and closed the door to her office. Helena frowned a little when she heard the click as Good locked the door. Why would she need to lock it? Helena had barely finished the thought when she felt Good’s breath against the back of her neck as the sergeant stood behind her, invading her personal space. When Helena turned to face her, Good nudged her to move until she’d backed to her desk until the backs of Helena’s thighs hit the edge and stopped her._

_Sergeant Good put her hand over the back of Helena’s neck and held her still as she leaned to press her lips over Helena’s, the tip of her tongue forcing its way into Helena’s mouth past her lips despite Helena’s effort to keep them pinched shut. Sergeant Good’s breath smelled like coffee and stale cigarettes, the taste of her tongue similar but laced with an aftertaste of something sweet. She probably put sugar in her coffee._

_“Don’t worry,” she said after breaking the forced kiss with a resounding smack. “You’re going to enjoy this,” she added as she undid Helena’s jacket and pushed it off of her shoulders before proceeding to yank the hem of Helena’s T-shirt from underneath the waist of her pants where she’d tucked it in._

This can’t be happening. This is ridiculous, this doesn’t make any sense, she can’t be serious, she’s just... hazing me, she has to be _, Helena thought when Good slipped her hands underneath the shirt and brought them up along her sides, dragging the shirt up as she did. She pushed it over Helena’s head and behind her neck before forcing her hand into Helena’s bra from underneath. She grabbed Helena’s breast greedily and pinched her nipple between her thumb and forefinger hard enough to hurt, the fingers of her other hand digging into the back of Helena’s neck once more as she kissed her again._

_“Don’t,” Helena managed to say into Sergeant Good’s mouth._

_“Trust me, you’ll start enjoying yourself soon enough,” Good promised with a grin. She undid Helena’s belt and pants, shoving them halfway down her thighs before she put her arms around Helena’s midsection and with a forceful nudge, lifted her onto the desk so that she was sitting on the edge of it._

_Good placed herself between Helena’s legs before she had chance to press her thighs together, the sides of her knees impacting into Good’s hips hard._

_“Is that any way to behave when a superior officer is doing you a favor?” Good asked, obviously not expecting an answer, her voice dropping to a low growl as she yanked Helena’s pants further down before stepping on them to push them all the way to her ankles. She leaned back and took a moment to stare at Helena._

_“Mmm,” she hummed and licked her lips like a starving person seeing a hot meal for the first time in days, “look at you all ready for me,” she added in a mumble._

_“Please, don’t do this,” Helena said, barely managing to get the words out, the fear clogging her throat, constricting it until she could hardly breathe, her voice reduced to a terrified whimper which was so unfamiliar to her she couldn’t even believe it had emanated from her._

Do something. Say something. Throw a fucking punch, anything, what is wrong with you? _Helena screamed internally at herself but the more she tried to move and resist, the less she found herself being able to do anything at all. The situation was too alien, too confusing, too wrong, it was impossible, it couldn’t be happening._

_“There’s no need to be embarrassed, pet. You have a cute little pussy, don’t you?” Sergeant Good murmured and reached down. She pressed her fingers against Helena, parting her lips with her forefinger and ring finger._

_“I don’t want...”_

_“That’s not what your pussy says,” Good spoke over her and to prove her point, she moved her middle finger to Helena’s opening and spread the slick wetness she discovered there._

I’m seventeen, I’m wet all the time whether I want it or not, _Helena thought but didn’t manage to bring herself to point that out to Sergeant Good out loud. She slid the finger inside Helena, eliciting a startled gasp from her as she did. Good then paused for a moment when she felt something resist her effort._

_“You’ve never done this before?” she quirked an eyebrow and Helena managed to shake her head a little. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat; she sure as hell wouldn’t give Good the satisfaction of seeing her cry._

_“Trust me, pet, I’m gonna make you feel good,” the sergeant said and chuckled then at her own pun before gripping Helena’s hip with her free hand and pressing her waist against the back of her hand which was still between Helena’s legs. She used her hips for added pressure and pushed into Helena, forcing her finger through the thin tissue she’d felt resist her earlier._

_Helena grunted at the unpleasant stretch, fullness and mild burning sensation that followed when Good added another finger. She brought her thumb to rub over Helena’s clit as she moved her fingers inside her, and Helena hated her body for giving into it._

_“Atta girl,” the sergeant said into her ear, sounding pleased with herself as she felt Helena’s inner muscles involuntarily pulse and constrict around her fingers. “My turn,” she then smiled and took a step back, undoing her pants. She pushed them mid-thigh and tugged on Helena until she got up from the desk only to be ordered to get on her knees in front of Good a couple of seconds later._

_“Be a good girl and hold still,” the sergeant said and sunk her hand into Helena’s hair, squeezing her hand into a tight fist, keeping Helena in place and pulling a little to urge her to tilt her head back. She then pushed against the back of Helena’s head and aligned herself with Helena’s mouth._

_“Flatten your tongue. Just like when licking an ice cream cone,” Good instructed and Helena did as she was told. She was rewarded with a low hum of approval from the sergeant whose fist in Helena’s hair slowly turned into a stroking hand, as if this were the tender moment she so adamantly kept insisting it was._

Just give her what she wants and get it over with, it won’t last forever, _Helena told herself as she tried to ignore the strain in her jaw and neck the awkward position brought up._

_She’d been right, it didn’t last long, probably due to the depraved thrill the sergeant had felt upon discovering Helena’d been a virgin. But that wasn’t much of a comfort in the long run because while it didn’t ever last very long, it happened often. At times Good ordered Helena to wear a strap-on and the whole sorry mess was over simply by her wearing it and sitting down while Good straddled her and took advantage of being able to grope at Helena’s breasts while riding her. Other times weren’t quite as painless. Sometimes Good told her she was “feeling curious”,  though, Helena knew it wasn’t as much curiosity as it was just plain sadism; she was certain Good was already knowledgeable of what the reaction to having something jammed up your ass and pussy against your will generally tended to be._

_Some of the times, Good didn’t even get off herself, and it had taken Helena a long time to understand what was the point of it all if she didn’t even get there. Why did she do those things to her if it weren’t even for her own satisfaction? And more importantly, why was she always so adamant about making Helena come, that was weird. Later, Helena had realized the reasons._

_It had never been about the sex, rape rarely was. It was about the power. It was about being able to look at someone and make them know you could do whatever you wanted with them. It was about degrading and humiliating another._

_Afterward Good had always taken the time to remind Helena to keep her mouth shut because clearly, she’d enjoyed herself. Betrayed by her own body after the manipulations the sergeant had put it through, Helena had not even questioned Good’s statements. Maybe Good was right, maybe she_ had _been begging for it._

It’s my own fault.

_And no one had ever told her otherwise._

* * *

Helena inhaled sharply when there was a knock on the door. The sound startled her back to reality from where her mind had shot off to after she’d read the email sent to her by a soldier she’d served with. A soldier who’d known Sergeant Kassandra Good rather well, and like Helena, he hadn’t wanted to know her that well either.

Helena was relatively certain her involvement with Good was still her secret, the soldier in question had approached a lot of people who had been trained by Sergeant Good, not just her. He’d been the reason Good had been discharged from the military, and he was now reaching out hoping to find more victims who would be willing to come forward so that he could make sure Sergeant Good would be prosecuted for what she’d done. Helena wished him luck but didn’t honestly believe this could be accomplished.

“Sorry, nobody down here but the DSO’s most unwanted!” Helena called out and closed the email. She’d meant to delete it, but she changed her mind. Perhaps she’d think on it. Maybe.

“Helena, get out of here, it’s Christmas eve’s eve, no one is actually working anymore,” Leon told her from the door.

“You’re here,” she quirked an eyebrow.  
“I was just leaving.”

“And you came all the way down here just to see me? I’m touched,” Helena smiled.  
“Well, I had to come and see what you’d done to the place. Love it,” Leon chuckled.

Helena’s office was in the basement floor, it had been lovingly nicknamed “Mulder’s office” since like the case was with the fictional FBI agent, the basement office was reserved for the “weirdo loner”-agent of the DSO as well. Helena had even gone ahead and gotten one of those “I want to believe”-posters she’d seen in the TV-show. It had been a simple little thing, but she hoped it had sent a message to those who’d put her here. It said she didn’t care.

_Bring it on, you don’t have what it takes to break me._

“Envious much?” she smirked.

“Very, I can see why you’d want to spend Christmas here,” he laughed. “Well, I’m off. Happy holidays, see you next year!” he then waved her goodbye. She responded in kind and sighed after he’d gone. It was getting kind of late, perhaps she should go home.

 _I wonder if Hunnigan’s still at the office,_ she mused as she shut down her laptop and stood up. She’d continued to try avoiding Hunnigan after the Christmas party and she knew she was being childish but at the same time, she didn’t know how to say anything, and at this point, it was too late to bring it up, it had been three days. And, Helena hoped that putting more distance between herself and Hunnigan would give her a chance to clear her mind and forget about the whole “I want to kiss Hunnigan”-nonsense.

Still, leaving without even telling Hunnigan to have a happy Christmas would’ve been just rude. Helena got into the elevator and rode it up to the floor where Hunnigan’s personal office was. The situation room where she and the other FOS agents worked if there was an attack was on ground level. The space housing the agents’ personal offices was higher up. It had been divided into separate rooms with glass walls, the small lounge and the kitchenette the only common areas.

As Helena approached the office, she was relatively certain no one would even be there anymore, there was no light seeping through the frosted glass on the door leading into the larger office, but she decided to go give the door a tug regardless. Could be Hunnigan had just turned off the main lights at the entrance to make it look like there was no one there, she was the type who would’ve preferred being left alone, Helena was certain of that much. As she suspected, the door opened smoothly.

“Seeley, what are you doing?” Hunnigan’s voice called out from her office.  
“Nuthin’!” the child responded from the far back of the space, his words immediately followed by a noise.

“Nuthiiiin’!” he repeated before his mother even had a chance to question him. When Helena entered further, she saw the boy had pulled out a drawer and was busy climbing on it, his intention apparently to look into the top cabinet, probably in the hopes of finding something sweet to munch on.

 _Oh, no_ , Helena gasped internally when she realized the boy would fall within two seconds from that moment. She dashed to the end of the room and caught him just as the drawer cracked and caved in underneath his weight, utensils spilling to the floor from inside it, clattering loudly.

“Seeley!” Hunnigan’s alarmed voice called out and Helena could hear her stand up so quickly her chair rolled into the wall from the force.  
“I’m not hurt, I’m just startled,” Seeley informed her, tiny, sharp pre-cry breaths taking over his voice toward the end of the sentence.

“Same,” Helena said, and she realized she was holding onto him rather awkwardly, her arm around his midsection and her left hand squeezing the back of his shirt as if she were about to carry him around like he were a gym bag. She let him go and he immediately ran the few steps there were between him and his mother. Hunnigan leaned to pick him up and he put his tiny arms around her neck.

“Thank you.”  
“Lucky coincidence,” Helena smiled a little.

“I should’ve paid more attention to him, I’m terrible at this,” Hunnigan sighed ruefully.  
“He’s a kid, they tend to find ways to get in trouble no matter what you do,” Helena assured her.

“Well... you have a point. And I think I’m still one step above my mother when it comes to parenting.”  
“I sense a story here.”

“There’s a series of photos in one album at home, there are a few pictures of my brother climbing up a tree, captioned ‘The joy of climbing’, and when you turn the page, there’s another series, featuring Nolan crying his eyes out, captioned ‘The pain of falling’, which means that instead of telling him not to climb and comforting him after he fell, my mother just took pictures,” Hunnigan said.

“Well, I mean, that is how we learn not to climb trees,” Helena chuckled.  
“Exactly what my mother said to justify her actions, but I still think photographing it was excessive,” Hunnigan said.

“Fair enough. That said, I bet this little guy won’t be climbing any more drawers after today, right?” Helena commented with a smile, looking at Seeley, who still had his face buried into the side of Hunnigan’s neck. He shook his head vigorously, not raising it from the spot, effectively wiping his tears and snot over the side of Hunnigan’s neck and on her collar. Hunnigan made a face of disgust and sighed.

“I’ll take this as a sign that we should be heading home,” she muttered and turned back to her desk, beginning to close the programs on her laptop before shutting it down. The door opened and Helena instinctively found her hand drawing toward the pistol in the holster on her hip. There shouldn’t have been anyone here, it made sense to her to be prepared for the worst. And at the same time, she wished Hunnigan didn’t notice her “jumpiness”.

The man who entered was a big guy; tall and even through his jacket, Helena could tell her had the body type of a strongman. He looked like he could wrestle a bear and win, easily. Hell, he could _be_ one for all she knew; the thick dark auburn messy hair and his full beard -as neatly trimmed as it was- made him look like a human version of a bear. In other words, at first glance, not the kind of a guy you would’ve wanted to run into in a dark alley. She shifted her initial opinion a little when his serious frown melted into a smile and she sensed what could only be described as an aura of kindness of him.

* * *

_art commissioned from[devilsarm](http://devilsarm.tumblr.com/). View in full size [here](http://devilsarm.tumblr.com/post/183013532395/full-color-bust-commission-of-defaultjane-s)._

* * *

“Oh. Hello,” he said upon realizing Helena was there too. He extended his arm and Helena gripped his hand, firmly but not enough to hurt. Helena had never considered her own hands dainty but still, somehow, her hand seemed to completely disappear into his when they shook hands.

“Major Hunnigan,” he introduced himself and Helena felt her entire scalp slide backward as she raised her eyebrows at that.

“Helena Harper,” she managed a response. He didn’t look like Hunnigan’s type at all, but Helena had to admit, she’d made assumptions about Hunnigan before and she’d been wrong. Assuming her ex would be a skinny geek was a result of Helena’s own misinterpretation of Hunnigan as well.

 _How modern of him to have taken her name,_ Helena thought and before she’d even finished the thought, she found herself mentally burying her face into her palm in exasperation at her own idiocy.

 _Yeah, sure, because out of the two of them,_ she _looks like the one with Irish roots, not the pale guy with the auburn hair and green eyes._

He then went to pick up Seeley from Hunnigan’s arms and she began to unplug the various cables attached to her laptop.

“I should get going, I just wanted to wish you happy holidays,” Helena smiled, beginning to feel rather awkward standing there. She took a moment to say goodbye to the family and headed into the stairs rather than the elevator. She didn’t want to run into them if they used the elevator, it would be weird now. A few more days away from Hunnigan and from work would probably do the trick and she’d get over the annoying flutter she felt in her heart whenever she saw the tall intelligence liaison. She certainly hoped so.

***


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed Helena’s background because in the files in RE6 it’s mentioned she got violent toward a suspect during a murder investigation, but it’s also mentioned somewhere that prior to her being in the Secret Service, she was in the CIA and the CIA has absolutely nothing to do with murder investigations whatsoever (FBI maybe but Helena wouldn’t have had the time to finish army, college and FBI training to be an FBI agent before being tossed to the Secret Service), so I changed it to something that makes a lot more sense, aka she went to the police academy after army and was a cop for five minutes and from there she was moved to the Secret Service by Simmons who by then had decided to use her as his pawn. It might sound ridiculous but believe me, it’s way more sensible than the alternative Capcom offered. :D

_Why her and not me?_ Helena thought as she stood in the shower, her head hanging low, the steaming hot water pelting her back, a cascade washing over her head as well, the drops mottled with her tears as they fell along the bridge of her nose.

She would never understand why, it made no sense. Why Deborah? She’d been the good kid. The one who’d actually had a chance at life, the one who hadn’t been broken down and hastily put back together, over and over again until the person that came out from that was permanently cracked and misshapen, the pieces no longer fitting together.

_Why didn’t I die?_

Quite simply, she hadn’t died because she’d been the agent, the former soldier, the President’s bodyguard. If she hadn’t fucked up her promotion to the DSO by letting her temper get the better of her, she wouldn’t have been in the Secret Service at the time and Simmons wouldn’t have had any reason to kidnap Deborah to coerce her. If she had gotten a different job altogether after getting out from the army, it wouldn’t have happened. If she’d gotten a job as an EMT and gone to school like she’d meant to do after active duty it wouldn’t have happened.

_You fucked up something as basic as being a cop! What kind of an idiot assaults a suspect and gets herself suspended almost as soon as she began at the job! You’re a failure. You could’ve made use of the resources the military provided, you could’ve at least tried, everyone else seems capable of going from combat medic to doctor or at least a nurse, but no, you couldn’t manage that either. You’re such a disappointment!_ her grandmother’s voice snapped from the citadel she’d built inside Helena’s mind, a myriad of demeaning and derogatory comments stored therein, ready to be fired at her at a fraction of a second’s notice if given the chance.

_You had to play hero. You had to beat up the suspect. You had to shoot Deborah’s boyfriend’s ear off and fuck up your promotion. You’re pathetic._

In Helena’s defense, Deborah’s then-boyfriend had been an abusive dick who had pummeled Deborah so badly she’d had to go to the hospital with bruised kidneys and fractured ribs. He was lucky Helena hadn’t killed him. In hindsight, she supposed she was lucky she hadn’t killed him too. But she didn’t find it in herself to genuinely regret doing that. She regretted everything it helped set in motion, the direction it had steered her life toward, but not the act itself. If she could go back in time, she’d kill him. That way she’d be in jail rather than compromising Deborah’s safety just by being her stupid big sister.

That was all she knew how to be; initially, Deborah had been the only one small enough for her to protect. Keeping her safe had given Helena a certain sense of purpose. It had felt good to have that, a reason for her existence. Playing hero hadn’t been Helena’s incentive, mattering to someone and making a positive difference in their life had been.

_Oh, well, yeah, sure, that turned out brilliantly, didn’t it?_ her grandmother’s voice scoffed. Helena sighed. No, it hadn’t in the end, but there’d been times when she’d served her purpose.

Like that time when Deborah had gotten the brilliant idea of pouring grandma’s booze down the drain because she’d believed that would be all it took to get her to stop drinking. When their grandmother found out about it, Helena was certain she’d kill the culprit.

She’d told Deborah to go to the attic and hide. Helena knew their grandmother wouldn’t go up there to look. It wasn’t that she wasn’t capable (she was more than capable, she wasn’t an invalid nor was she a frail old lady), it was just that she wouldn’t be bothered, especially not if Helena would say she’d done it.

She’d taken the blame and the beating. The lacerations on her back from the belt grandmother had used to beat her with had gotten infected because there’d been no aftercare. As a reward for having the audacity to whine about being sick, Helena had gotten hit on the back of the head with that damn hairbrush. Afterward, her grandmother had dragged her into the bathroom and drawn a scalding bath, saying something about getting the wounds thoroughly cleaned.

The water felt boiling hot, and Helena imagined her skin bubbling and fizzing in the heat. Of course, it hadn’t been that bad in reality, but it had felt very real to a terrified ten year old. Her grandmother had then proceeded to vigorously scrub the infected wounds with a coarse sponge. Helena winced and pressed her palm against the scars on her back, the phantom pain the memory brought still stinging her skin. The blood from the wounds had dyed the bathwater a faded shade of pink by the time they were done with the violent bath.

Unsurprisingly, that had made Helena’s condition worse and she’d gotten a fever which had nearly killed her. After that, her grandmother had been more careful with the punishments; having the annoying brat die would raise questions, she couldn’t have that. So, she’d stuck to milder methods of punishments (like grabbing her by the hair and dragging her over to the pantry where she’d lock her in, or pinching the soft skin under her arm between the armpit and the elbow) apart from the times she got overwhelmed by her fury and resorted to breaking out the large wooden hairbrush.

Helena still had moments when she was about to drift off and just as she was to fall asleep, she’d see the brush speeding toward her, the lacquered surface shining under the light, the decorative pattern carved onto the back of the brush getting bigger as it rushed closer. That God damn brush had been the first thing she’d burned after clearing the apartment from her grandmother’s belongings after her passing. But it hadn’t been enough to burn the bad memories or the nasty remarks she still had embedded deep in her mind. She doubted she’d ever be rid of them. It was the dumbest things too, things that should no longer matter to her, should no longer have the power to hurt. But they did.

_You’re sick._

Helena still didn’t understand why her grandmother had said that. It had happened before she’d come out, so it hadn’t been about that. Certainly, she’d said it numerous times afterward, in fact, that had been her favorite way of describing Helena, simply stating that she’s “sick”, and she’d never explained why she’d said it in the first place, what was it about Helena that supposedly made her sick. The first time she’d heard it, Helena had been rather confused because to a little kid, being sick meant you had the flu, and she hadn’t felt ill, why would grandma say she was sick?

_You’re fat enough as it is. No one loves a fatty-patty._

A comment made when Helena had asked if they could go to McDonald’s. What made it more insulting was the fact that looking back, looking at the few photos she had from that time, she could see she had not been fat. She’d been a child, she’d had the normal amount of “babyfat” all (or certainly almost all) children of that age had. And still, that one comment still remained with her. She’d heard it lurking in the back of her mind a lot recently thanks to the weight she’d gained and no amount of reasoning and assuring it wasn’t even bad made it go away.

The only time the derogatory words had remained muffled in the background was when Helena had been deployed in Afghanistan and befriended a soldier named Maxima. Helena had hero-worshipped her. No, more than that, she’d loved her. Not romantically or sexually, but like one loved their brothers and sisters in arms.

Maxima was smart, she was strong and above all, she was kind and patient, a saint as far as Helena was concerned. She was the kind of a person one thought of when thinking about a soldier: honorable, guided by strong and just moral convictions, willing to sacrifice herself for the good of others. She was the kind of a woman Helena would’ve happily followed to hell with a smile.

_And then she died too. You can’t save anyone._

“It wasn’t my fault!” Helena snapped out loud. What the hell more could she have done? The IED had taken out the vehicle Maxima had been in and it had been too late the moment the explosion had happened, there was nothing anyone could have done at that point. Helena had tried, truly she had. Desperately and uselessly, she’d ran to her friend, dropped to her knees and scooped up the guts, blood, bone fragments and chunks of charred flesh she could find, sand covering it all and clinging to her hands now sticky with blood as she hopelessly kept trying to tuck it all back into the upper half of her friend’s torso, the only part of her that was still intact.

_You can’t save anyone. You’re a useless waste of my son’s cum!_

“Stop. Just stop,” Helena muttered, sucking in a shuddering breath as she tried to stop crying. It took a while longer but finally, she shut the water off and exited the shower. A while later, she slumped onto the couch, wearing her bathrobe. Sighing deeply, she stared blankly at the wall for a long time.

_You know what stops it._

Her gaze wandered lower, onto the pistol in its holster on the coffee table. She’d meant to take it apart and clean it, but she had decided to put it off; like so many other things it could wait until tomorrow. Helena grabbed it and pulled it out from the holster. She weighed it in her hand, adjusted her hold on the grip and racked the slide, all such familiar movements she could’ve done them in her sleep. Never before had she put the barrel into her mouth, though, but there was a first time for everything.

Helena placed her front teeth into the grooves in the underside of the Picatinny rail, the fit disturbingly good. She inhaled deeply and let it out through her nose in a long exhale. The hammer made a whiny creaking noise as it drew back when Helena put more pressure on the trigger. The cold metal didn’t taste as bitter as she’d expected.

* * *

Hunnigan couldn’t say what had possessed her to go over, especially since Helena had obviously been avoiding her, but despite thinking she should know better, here she was. At first, she’d been bothered by the way Helena had practically ran away every time Hunnigan had tried having a conversation beyond wishing her good morning or day or evening, depending on what time of day they happened to run into each other in the agency. Then she’d figured out the mistake she’d made.

She’d assumed she and Helena had become friends practically overnight when in reality, it wasn’t like Helena’d had any other choice but to get along with her while they’d been stuck in the cabin together. Thinking on it more and realizing just how obvious and stupid the whole thing was, she hadn’t been able to keep from feeling like a damn fool. What sane person goes from thinking “we’re colleagues” to thinking “we’re friends” based on something like that? No one, as far as Hunnigan was concerned.

She hadn’t stopped to think of the irony of her appearing at Helena’s door in person on Christmas eve to apologize for coming on too strong. In her defense, that wasn’t the only reason she’d come over, she’d also wanted to give Helena a Christmas present. She’d walked past a bookstore and noticed a copy of Jim Gaffigan’s “Dad is fat” on display in the window and recalled Helena mentioning she was a fan of his work, so she’d gotten the book for her.

Hunnigan knocked again after waiting for a long while, trying to listen for any signs of life from the apartment, but it was quiet.

_Maybe she’s not at home,_ Hunnigan mused and was about to see if she could manage to fit the book through the mail slot on the door when Helena’s voice finally called out.

“Hang on!”

Hunnigan did and a few moments later, Helena unlocked the door, visibly surprised to see Hunnigan.

“Hey. I, uh, I was just in the shower," she elaborated somewhat needlessly, Hunnigan had figured out as much based on the fact that Helena's hair was wet and she was dressed in a dark red bathrobe.  
“Oh, I’m sorry, I should’ve called ahead, I’m not thinking things through these days it seems,” Hunnigan apologized.

“It’s fine,” Helena smiled and stepped aside, gesturing toward the apartment and Hunnigan entered. Helena told her she could wait in the living room while she excused herself and disappeared into the bedroom to get dressed.

Helena’s apartment was rather small, not messy but looked lived-in with haphazardly unpacked bags and items of clothing cluttering the space. The kitchenette was a narrow slit in the far back, separated from the living room by a bar counter. The couch sat a couple of feet away from it, opposite to the shelves on the other wall, the TV and accessories there, surrounded by DVDs and paperback books which flooded the shelves.

Hunnigan glanced at the coffee table and at first, didn’t think anything of the handgun there, she’d learned by now that Helena liked to keep her gun near herself at all times. She noticed the barrel looked... wet? That made no sense. She was about to lean in to look closer when Helena’s voice caught her attention.

“I gotta admit I’m surprised to see you,” she said as she emerged from the bedroom, running her hand through her wet hair.  
“I came to apologize.”

“About what?”  
“About my behavior at the Christmas party. I kind of got carried away and thought more of what was happening, I took things the wrong way, I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Helena frowned.

“Well, I just assumed we’d sort of hit it off and that we were friends but I realize it was probably just because what other option did you have than to get along with me while we were stuck in the cabin, so I misunderstood, sorry about that,” Hunnigan elaborated and Helena paused for a long moment, seeming to process the words. Hunnigan hoped she didn’t come across like she was here guilt-tripping Helena about it, she had meant her words as they were. She took a moment to assure Helena of that now.

“No, no, you’ve got it wrong, I wasn’t... that’s not how it was, I mean... yeah, but in reverse. I was kind of keeping my distance because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by assuming...” Helena trailed off, and Hunnigan didn’t believe she was being entirely honest, but she did sound genuine about the sentiment.

“A simple misunderstanding like this is the kind of a thing terribly written and annoyingly predictable comedies are based on,” Helena then laughed a little and Hunnigan smiled.  
“Speaking of comedy,” she said and dug into her purse. “Merry Christmas,” she said and handed Helena the book.

“You didn’t need to get me anything! I didn’t think to get anything for you!” Helena sighed.  
“You already gave me the socks, remember?”

“Well, yeah, but that was different.”  
“Enough, we’re not arguing over this, just take the gift,” Hunnigan rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Fine, but I’m getting you a present later,” Helena said.  
“You got any plans for the holidays?” Hunnigan then changed the subject.

“I’m not really a Christmas-person. Does getting drunk, binge-eating junk food and overdosing on whatever’s good on Netflix count?” Helena inquired as she put the gift down onto the coffee table, she’d open it later.  
“It totally counts.”

“I’m sorry, I guess you can tell I’m not used to having guests; do you want coffee or something?” Helena then realized to ask, and Hunnigan shook her head a little.  
“I can’t stay, Major’s waiting for me to go pick him and Seeley up.”

“You guys sure seem to spend a lot of time together despite being divorced,” Helena pointed out with a smirk. Hunnigan wasn’t sure what she was implying exactly, perhaps that she didn’t believe the marriage was really over. Or perhaps she was jealous. She did kind of sound like she was trying hard to not sound jealous.

_Why would she be jealous?_

“Yeah, we’re the best divorced couple ever, we get along so perfectly my mother even still invites him over for Thanksgiving and Christmas, completely disregarding how I might feel about that, presenting her act as something she does for Seeley’s sake, but we all know she’s trying to force Major and I back together even though it’s obvious to everyone except to her that we don’t even want to get back together,” Hunnigan spoke, pausing to inhale deeply in the middle of her mini-rant, “...so, that will be fun,” she added sarcastically.

“I know I shouldn’t laugh, but... I’m feeling that emotion I can’t remember the word for, you know, when you’re glad something bad is happening to someone else,” Helena chuckled.

“You mean sadism?” Hunnigan smirked.  
“No, no, the German-sounding word. I can’t remember, now it’s gonna bother me.”

“I know. Which is why I won’t tell you what it is even though I know exactly the word you’re looking for. And now I’m feeling it when I think of you agonizing over not remembering it,” Hunnigan said sweetly.  
“You do realize I can just Google it?”

“If I had time, I’d knock out your wi-fi.”  
“Now who’s the sadist!” Helena gasped in exaggerated horror before they both laughed.

“The word you’re looking for is ‘schadenfreude’. Merry Christmas,” Hunnigan then said and Helena wished her the same before pulling her into a tight hug.  
“Thank you. For everything,” Helena said quietly into Hunnigan’s shoulder and tightened her grip on her.

Hunnigan didn’t know what exactly Helena was thanking her for, but she didn’t question it nor was she the first to pull back from the hug. She didn’t know it at the time, but her not being the first to let go changed everything.

***


	8. Chapter 8

Hunnigan felt uneasy and it wasn’t just because she’d been forced to share a bed with her ex-husband. Her parents still lived in the same three-bedroom apartment they’d lived in since moving to New York before Hunnigan had even been born, and her mother naturally had told Hunnigan to say in her old room with Major and Seeley while Nolan stayed in his old room.

“If you keep tossing and turning like that, I’m gonna need seasickness medicine,” Major mumbled.  
“You’re welcome to sleep on the floor,” Hunnigan told him.

“What’s bothering you? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because I know you better than that,” he then said and turned to face her.  
“I honestly am not sure, I just have this gut-feeling that something’s wrong. You know?”

“I know perfectly, going with my gut is how I catch bad guys,” Major smiled.

“Yeah, but it’s annoying thinking something’s wrong but not being able to figure out _what_ exactly it is,” Hunnigan sighed in frustration. At this rate, she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all and tomorrow’s forced family-time would be even worse if she was to be tired and cranky through it.

“It’ll come to you, trust me,” Major comforted sleepily and Hunnigan couldn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes at him. He didn’t care, he’d gotten more than used to her doing that at him when they’d been married.  
“Want me to do _the thing_ and rub your back like I used to? That always helps you sleep,” he then offered with a grin and Hunnigan smiled a little.

“I didn’t want to ask. I thought it would be weird.”  
“I’ve always thought it’s weird, I would never be able to relax to someone doing that to me, I’d get irritated,” he chuckled quietly.

For years, Hunnigan too had considered it strange because she’d thought she was the only person on the planet who felt a weird tingly sensation in the back of her head and neck when she heard certain sounds. She hadn’t known what to call it until her brother had sent her a link to an article about autonomous sensory meridian response.

Major shifted on the bed a little and leaned toward Hunnigan’s ear, the tip of his nose pressing against her temple. She closed her eyes when he licked his lips and began to move his tongue around his mouth, the resulting wet sounds sending a cascade of tingles down Hunnigan’s back. She’d just begun to relax enough to drift off when she realized what it was that bothered her, the thoughts frantically dashing from one to another as the separate details tried to make sense and form into a coherent realization.

_Saliva. It was saliva on the gun. Helena’s gun. It was in her mouth. She was about to kill herself._

“What’s wrong?” Major frowned when Hunnigan sat up quickly and reached for her phone.  
“I figured it out,” was all Hunnigan said before dialing Helena’s number, muttering “pick up” repeatedly under her breath.

_“Hey, this is Helena’s voice, don’t leave a message at the tone, I won’t remember to get back to you, just text me like a normal person would’ve done in the first place. Bye!”_

“Shit,” Hunnigan hissed and redialed.  
“Calm down.”

“I can’t right now,” Hunnigan said and Major sighed. He sat up and scooted to Hunnigan’s side of the bed and put his hand over her shoulder.  
“Tell me what’s going on and we’ll figure it out,” he said and Hunnigan glared at him. He had no goddamn right to be behaving like the calm, supportive one who would make everything better somehow right now... even if he more or less was exactly that.

“I think a friend of mine might be about to do something stupid like hurt herself. And she’s not picking up and I don’t know if it-”  
“It’s past midnight, she’s probably asleep.”

“And what if it’s something worse than that? I have to go check on her.”  
“Now? You can’t be serious!” Major scoffed.

“Well, what the hell else am I supposed to do?” Hunnigan snapped at him, already beginning to get dressed.

“Call the local police station, explain the situation and ask someone to go see her,” Major reasoned, and had the roles been reversed, Hunnigan knew she would’ve been telling him exactly the same. She also knew how annoyed she’d be if he refused to listen to her advice in that situation, advice which would undoubtedly be the most sensible thing to do, and still, she found herself wanting to tear his head off for trying to tell her what to do.

“I can’t just sit here. I have to go.”  
“It’s an over four hour drive on a good day, and this is not a good day, the weather’s crap, and who knows what else, this isn’t sensible.”

“I _need_ to, do you understand that?” Hunnigan hissed at him.

He obviously didn’t. Perhaps he’d never felt the unpleasant gnawing feeling in his chest cavity when something was so bad it felt like it was literally eating you alive from the inside. What he did understand was how his ex-wife thought and behaved, and he knew little children would be building snowmen in hell before Ingrid Lee Hunnigan would stop and abandon her mission to get back to D.C. during the night between Christmas eve and Christmas day.

“Take my car,” he sighed deeply, deflating a little as he visibly gave up trying to talk her out of it, “it’s safer than that shopping cart you drive.”

* * *

Helena hadn’t planned on spending her Christmas getting drunk on rum and doing online searches on Hunnigan in the hopes of finding her from a social media site (no luck so far), but here she was.

_Yeah, this is not creepy at all._

She didn’t recognize the voice speaking in her mind this time because unlike usually, it was actually her own voice for once.

_Maybe I’ve finally just lost it. That’s it, I’ve finally just gone crazy like everyone always said I would. Either that or that I’d kill someone after getting angry. I guess getting so furious runs in the family, huh, grandma?_ she scoffed internally.

From what Helena recalled of her parents, her father had been just as bad at controlling his temper. She didn’t remember much of her mother at all. According to Helena’s grandmother, she’d been a lazy slut, but Helena wasn’t inclined to take her grandmother’s word for it. She’d also said Helena’s father had driven the car into the wall on purpose to kill himself and his wife, but she’d never explained why exactly he would’ve done that.

_Did she need to explain it? You know what it was. You heard things. Saw things._

Helena took another sip of her drink and tried to remember.

The house they’d grown up in had been of somewhat shoddy construction, meaning on the second floor, there was a small area that had a noticeable gap between the wall and the floor, leaving an opening which wasn’t big enough for a child to fall through, but it did offer a good view into the living room. Helena had spent a lot of her time spying on her parents from there, usually when she’d been ordered to go to bed but hadn’t gotten to sleep and had instead watched her parents get drunk with their friends or each other. Occasionally, she’d seen them have sex on the couch or on the floor, not really understanding what they were doing, but it had looked somewhat violent and she’d wondered what was the point of it all. Then there was the fight on the evening they’d died.

_“You think that I don’t know! Nothing insults me as much as the fact that you think I’m so stupid that I don’t know!”_ her father had yelled, and her mother had responded equally loudly.  
_“Fine! She’s not yours! Is that what you want to hear? Are you happy now!”_

Then she’d left and he had followed her outside. Helena had heard their muffled arguing continue, the sound of the car starting and doors slamming. Then they were gone.

“Is it wrong that I don’t even miss them?” Helena asked from no one as she swallowed another mouthful of rum and coke.

The only person from her family she missed was Deborah. She supposed it was probably because all evidence suggested she was only half blood-related, it made sense to miss someone who wasn’t like the rest of her family. It would explain a lot. Deborah hadn't really looked like any of the close family from Helena’s father’s side either, and she certainly hadn't suffered from the same anger-control problems everyone from Helena’s father’s side seemed to share.

“So, the current theory is my father intentionally drove the car into a wall after my mother came clean about the fact that Deborah wasn’t his child. Everyone cool with that?” Helena talked to herself, took a drink and frowned as she thought about it.

“Why would he have been driving, he was the one who chased after her, it makes more sense if she was the one who got in the car first. So, _she_ made the whole ‘I’ll kill myself and take you with me’-move. Does it matter? Not really, the end result is the same,” she continued speaking and sighed. She finished her drink and went to make another before returning to the couch and hitting a key to wake her laptop up.

“Now, where was I? Oh, yes, not being creepy at all,” she smirked to herself as she prowled through Facebook and instead of finding Ingrid Hunnigan there, she found Major. For someone who worked for the FBI and who’d been married to someone as aware of the perils of online life, he certainly sucked at securing his information. Perhaps he was one of those people who had never really paid attention to their privacy settings. Or then he didn’t care and actually wanted to share everything publicly.

_Not that I mind, more info for me,_ Helena smirked. She skipped reading his personal information because frankly, she felt she already knew too much thanks to what Hunnigan had told her about his private parts. She proceeded to go through his photo albums and quirked an eyebrow at the one which contained pictures of him skateboarding in ramps he’d built himself in his backyard, at least that’s what the captions on the pictures suggested.

“No one over twenty should be doing that, I don’t care what anyone says, skateboards are for Bart Simpson and Tony Hawk... both over twenty years old, hah, but still,” Helena said and navigated through the rest of the albums.

“My God, man,” she then chuckled a little. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve assumed she was reading the posts of a seventy year old man who more than often liked his own photos and updates because he thought that was how it works. Maybe he was internally an old man, and a little bit computer-illiterate (which was ironic considering who he’d been married to).

“Finally, something good,” she mumbled when she discovered an older album from before the divorce. The fact that Major hadn’t just deleted it spoke volumes of how well he and Hunnigan still got along... or then he’d just not known how to delete it. Helena was relatively certain it was the former though, which was strange to her; had it been her, she could all too easily see herself destroying everything that reminded her of her ex.

_Give the missus a few glasses of wine and her alter ego Lee Del Rey pops up,_ a caption by a photo of Hunnigan said. In it, she sat on the couch half a glass of red wine in front of her on the coffee table, her eyeglasses next to it. Her hair was shorter than Helena had ever seen it on her, barely reaching her shoulders. She had crossed one leg over the other, a black acoustic guitar resting on her thigh as she picked at the strings. It was an excellent photo, and frankly, it seemed Major had a secret talent of capturing candid moments, but Helena didn’t think he was aware of his skill.

_Or perhaps I’m thinking that way because I’m obsessing over the model_ , Helena sighed internally as she clicked through the album, shamelessly stealing quite a few pictures of Hunnigan and stashing them into a folder within a folder within a folder. Not the most secure method of hiding the theft but worked in a pinch.

_“LOL Nice job, Major, knocking up your ex has got to be a new low. *slow clap*”_ one of his friends had commented on a photo of an ultrasound scan which Major had captioned “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Bob Ross it’s that there are no mistakes, only happy accidents”. Helena chuckled a little at the lengthy argument he’d gotten into with his friend who’d made the tacky comment.

_Ever wonder what him fucking Hunnigan would look like?_ Sergeant Good asked in Helena’s mind and she immediately cringed at the thought. Not because of the mental image itself (she wished it had been because of that) but because of how she found herself reacting to it.

_No, I absolutely fucking refuse to go there,_ she thought defiantly but even as she did, she knew it was already too late for that.

_We both know that’s the kind of a thing you’re into, you never rub one out to the thought of fucking someone yourself, no, you always think of other people fucking each other. It’s kind of pathetic you can’t insert yourself into a situation like that even in your mind, but I guess it makes sense considering how much you hate yourself over anything sexual._

“And whose fault is that?” she spat out loud to Sergeant Good’s crass commentary.

_Blame me all you want but the truth is you’ve always been like that, ever since you started humping your stuffed animals as a kid when you didn’t even know what you were doing or why doing it while thinking of that time when you watched your dad fuck your mother on the floor made you feel funny inside and your little cunt all wet._

“Jesus Christ, why am I like this?” Helena groaned and buried her face in her hands.

_What difference does it make, knowing why won’t change anything; you’d still want to touch yourself while thinking about Major fucking Hunnigan. I bet she’d be on top, riding that beautiful cock which you can bet is meaty and as thick as your wrist._

The mental image was all too easy to conjure up and made her feel all too tingly inside.

“I hate myself,” she muttered as she settled to lie down on her stomach on the couch and slipped her hand between her body and the cushions, tucking her fingers underneath the waistband of her underwear and pressing them over her clit.

She imagined Hunnigan straddling Major, leaning forward, her hands on his chest, his over her hip and his other arm around her midsection. She imagined Hunnigan rocking up and down on him, her ass bouncing as she did and as he thrust his hips up to bury his cock into her, the shaft glistening as it slid back and forth, coated by the slick wetness from her. She imagined him pulling her closer and grabbing a handful of her breasts, reaching to suck on her nipple. She imagined her throwing her head back, her hair cascading over her shoulder blades, free from the clip she usually held it up with. She imagined her straightening her back and him sitting up, her quickening the pace and taking charge, rebounding in his lap and fingering her clit as she fucked him until they both came.

Helena wiped her fingers on the inside of her underwear turned to lay on her back when the last of the aftershocks gave out. She hadn’t felt this disgusted with herself in a long time. It was a familiar feeling, one that had followed every single time she’d masturbated (at least the times she’d known what she’d been doing), usually brought on by her having to take a moment to see the porn she’d been looking at while masturbating.

She hated porn. And yet, there she was, consuming it just like all the other disgusting depraved pieces of filth who would greatly be improved by death. It didn’t make it better that she didn’t go for the hardcore stuff but rather preferred watching women fucking other women with strap-ons; it didn’t make it any less porn, it didn’t ease her feeling of disgust toward herself afterward because getting off on porn also made her a hypocrite no matter how she tried to justify it to herself.

_You’re sick.  
_“Yeah. Sounds about right,” Helena sighed.

She turned to look at the computer, a picture of Hunnigan sitting at the kitchen table with one leg crossed over the other, taking a sip of her coffee while her free hand was resting on her laptop’s touchpad, still in fullscreen on Helena’s display. Major had captioned it “the love of my life hard at work already before morning coffee”. It was several years old but Helena still felt bad for the guy, he genuinely did come across like he’d been very much in love with Hunnigan. Somehow, realizing that made Helena feel even more disgusted with herself.

Sighing, Helena glanced at the clock. It was almost four in the morning.

“One more drink, then I’m going to bed,” she said to herself, got up and went to mix herself another rum and coke. She’d just circled over to the couch when there was a frantic knock on her door. Frowning, she put on her bathrobe to cover up and reached for her handgun which sat on the coffee table, recently thoroughly cleaned when she’d decided to postpone her suicide and do that instead.

She tucked the pistol into the oversized pocket in front of her robe, her hand squeezing the grip as she reached to unlock the door with her right hand and leaned to look through the spyhole.

“What the hell...” she muttered, clicked the safety back on and opened the door.

“Oh, thank God,” Hunnigan sighed in visible relief and opened her arms only to instantly wrap them around Helena. The moment she did, Helena stepped to her and when Hunnigan’s arms closed around her, she pressed the side of her face against Hunnigan’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She didn’t know what this was about, she didn’t know why Hunnigan was here when there was no logical reason for her to be, but Helena didn’t care, the reasons for her being here didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that she was here, her arm around the small of Helena’s back, making her feel safe, her other hand gently running through her hair as she nuzzled Helena’s head and pressed a hard kiss on top of it.

But as much as Helena would’ve wanted to remain in blissful ignorance of how and why they were here like this now, she couldn’t put off asking about it forever. She held onto Hunnigan for a long moment, not really wanting to retreat from he embrace, but growing aware of this quickly beginning to turn awkward unless she did.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this... but... what the hell are you doing here? I thought you said you were going to New York,” she said.  
“I did, I came back. You didn’t answer your phone, I was worried.”

“I forgot it on vibrate. You... were worried? And you drove from New York to check up on me? I don’t want to sound ungrateful for the attention but that sounds a bit excessive.”

“I know what you were doing,” Hunnigan said and Helena’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t believe Hunnigan would’ve somehow managed to keep track of Helena’s recent online activities, let alone magically figure out Helena had just masturbated to the thought of her. Then she realized what Hunnigan was referring to.

When she elaborated on what she knew and how she’d put it together, Helena was internally screaming at herself to deny it, come up with some kind of a lie and deliver it convincingly enough to get Hunnigan to believe it, but... she couldn’t. She had nothing to say. She felt awkward and embarrassed about it all but at the same time, she was moved by the realization that someone cared enough to come check up on her at a time like this. Then she went back to feeling embarrassed and a little guilty because evidently Hunnigan had driven here on Christmas eve just to confirm that Helena was okay.

Dozens of things could’ve gone wrong during the drive, at the worst, she could’ve gotten killed in an accident, and it would’ve been more or less Helena’s fault. At the very least Hunnigan being here right now meant that there was a little boy in New York who would be waking up to Christmas morning only to find that his mother wasn’t there because of Helena.

_I didn’t ask her to come here,_ Helena thought irritably.

She stepped to the side, silently inviting Hunnigan in. When the door was closed, Helena went to the living room and realized her laptop was still open on Major’s Facebook-page. She cleared her throat and hurried to close it, trying to look nonchalant and like she wasn’t hurrying to hide something from Hunnigan. When the lid was closed, she dug the pistol out from her pocket and placed it on the table. She noticed the way Hunnigan glanced at it.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna shoot myself with you standing there,” Helena said dryly, released the magazine and pulled the slide back, capturing the bullet in her palm when it was ejected from the chamber.  
“I wasn’t thinking about that.”  
“Okay,” Helena shrugged. She still didn’t know what to say and it was becoming apparent that Hunnigan didn’t really have words right now either. Helena supposed she hadn’t thought further than arriving here.

_Yeah, probably thinking she’d find your corpse. Imagine driving all night with a concern like that weighing you down. You cause nothing but trouble and pain to everyone around you. It’s remarkable really. Everyone who has ever cared about you got pain in return. You don’t deserve to have anyone care about you,_ her grandmother’s voice said.

“You shouldn’t have come here, there was no need,” Helena muttered. Hunnigan sighed a little and sat down next to Helena.  
“Maybe not by the time I figured it out.”

“You’ve already done more than any decent person should be expected to do in your shoes, you don’t have to worry about me, or go around blaming yourself even if I did go through with it despite you trying to help, it’s not about you or what you could do differently.”

“Helena, I’m not here to pre-emptively absolve myself of guilt, I’m here because I care about you. I don’t want you to die.”  
“Let’s just forget this happened.”

“I can’t do that. If our roles were reversed, would you?” Hunnigan reasoned and Helena exhaled deeply.

“No, I wouldn’t,” she admitted quietly. A heavy silence draped itself over them like a thick fog, and Helena could tell Hunnigan was working really hard to find the right words, the right questions, and Helena would’ve wanted to tell her she didn’t need to bother, it wouldn’t change anything.

“What is causing this? What’s hurting you?” she finally spoke. Helena scoffed a little. Considering everything that had gone on in her life recently, Hunnigan should’ve known better. Then again, Helena accepted that she was being a bit unreasonable because since Deborah’s death, Helena had made sure she’d come across as fine. No one was supposed to know the extent of her hurt, Hunnigan wouldn’t either had Helena not left her gun out, or had Helena gone ahead and pulled the trigger instead of stopping when Hunnigan had knocked on her door yesterday.

“I mean, I have some idea, but... I didn’t know it was this bad. I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

_Oh, look at that. She is here trying to save your fat ass and_ she’s _the one apologizing to_ you _about something she’s not even responsible for. Nice job, you stupid bitch._

Sergeant Good’s voice this time. Helena wondered when she could start considering herself actually schizophrenic with all these voices in her head. She supposed it didn’t count as mental illness since she knew the voices weren’t actual voices, they weren’t auditory hallucinations, they were dark negative thoughts she’d given names to.

“Don’t,” was all she managed to say.  
“Please, talk to me.”

“I can’t. I don’t have anything to say.”  
“Can I help?”

“No.”  
“Helena...”

“Look, if I wanted to talk about this, I would’ve called someone. But I don’t. So just drop it,” Helena said sternly.  
“Okay. We’ll just sit here in silence then,” Hunnigan nodded, slapped her palms over her knees and sat up straight, staring at the wall in front of her.

“You have places to be, so please, just... go home.”  
“You’re right, I do have a place to be and right now that place is here. I’m not going to leave you alone.”

“How did you even get in the building?” Helena then asked, realizing it was the middle of the night and that the door to the building locked automatically at 6.00 P.M. and unless you had a key, you couldn’t enter.  
“It involves paying a prostitute to distract the doorman while I hacked the electronic lock.”

“Seriously?”

“No, but the truth is boring,” Hunnigan said before explaining she’d simply flashed her DSO-badge to the superintendent who’d been on call and he’d taken her seriously enough since the badge looked as official as they came when in reality the only authority it gave its bearer was a few parking privileges and even those applied only in the D.C. area. Helena chuckled a little.

“Stop making me feel better,” she then scolded Hunnigan and tried to stifle the rest of the laughter about to erupt from her just because Hunnigan had joked around.  
“Never.”

“I’m not gonna do anything to myself, you can go home. I don’t want your son to have to spend Christmas without you just because of me,” Helena then said.  
“Ah, so that’s it. You think asking me to stay would take something away from him. So, you won’t ask me even if you wanted to.”

“It _would_ take you away from him.”  
“I guarantee he won’t even notice because my parents will be busy spoiling him. So, stop using that as an excuse. Right now, you need me more than he does. Maybe saying that makes me a horrible mother but I’m still right. Seeley is okay, you’re not.”

“I’m not okay,” Helena nodded and burst into tears without any warning and unable to hold it back. Without missing a beat, Hunnigan wrapped her arms around Helena and pulled her close.  
“You don’t have to be, not so soon after everything. Just don’t give up, we can fix this. I will help you, I promise,” Hunnigan whispered.

“I don’t know if you can, if anyone can,” Helena whimpered in between shuddering breaths.  
“We’ll fix it. Together. Trust me.”

And Helena did.

 

***


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With my sincere thanks to [Fiorelli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiorelli/profile) for the Spanish lessons! :)

Helena woke up shortly before noon after finally having managed to get to sleep. She’d stayed up until almost seven in the morning, talking with Hunnigan, telling her about how the demeaning voice which had always been there to tell her how worthless she is had gotten really loud and impossible to ignore lately, which in return had resulted in her wanting to give up. Hunnigan had argued that voice was wrong but understood that it wasn’t as simple as that because the “ignore it and it’ll go away”-method of dealing with that particular type of unpleasantness didn’t work.

By the time she’d finished talking and literally crying on Hunnigan’s shoulder, she’d felt better (and had soaked Hunnigan’s sweater with her tears and with her runny nose). Hunnigan hadn’t offered platitudes, she hadn’t said it would be okay and expected it would be enough, she hadn’t tried forcing a solution to the problem. She’d just been there and listened, and Helena hadn’t realized until just then that being heard was what she’d needed the most. That and the hug she’d spent most of the early morning in until she’d decided she’d been done talking and crying, and just wanted to sleep.

 _Oh, doesn’t this look nice, hm?_ Sergeant Good inquired in the back of Helena’s head when she noticed the generous view of Hunnigan’s chest. She’d had to borrow a shirt from Helena after the younger woman’s tears had soaked her own, and the only shirt Helena’d had clean was the one she never wore because she hated the low-cut neckline. She’d gotten it from Deborah a few years ago, her younger sister stating that with a decent push-up bra, the shirt would do justice to Helena’s rack. She hadn’t realized Helena had no desire to show off said rack, but she’d accepted the gift regardless and forgotten about it over time.

 _Stop_ , she scolded herself but didn’t do anything to avert her eyes. Instead, she found herself paying more attention, glancing over the thin white stretch marks, counting the freckles on the olive skin, shamelessly staring at the curve of the breast.

_God, I just want to bury my face in her tits and disappear from the world._

Helena snorted quietly at the thought lancing through her head. It was ridiculous, sounded like something someone in one of those poorly-written romance novels might say.

 _Why am I like this?_ she asked herself once again. She jolted a little when a demanding and loud noise came from the bedside table when Hunnigan’s phone vibrated. Helena then quirked an eyebrow when she felt Hunnigan press her palm against her back and rub a comforting circle on it.

 _She thought I jumped because I was having a nightmare, this is what she did at the cabin too,_ Helena mused. She tucked her head under Hunnigan’s chin, not waking Hunnigan up completely to let her know of the incoming phone call. She knew she was being selfish but she didn’t think she’d get many more chances like this. She’d feel bad over it later, she was sure. But right now that didn’t matter.

“Oh, crap,” Hunnigan muttered after reaching for her phone and unlocking it. Helena turned to lay on her back and opened her eyes slowly, hoping to still look sleepy enough to pass for someone who’d only just now woken up.  
“What’s wrong?”

“Seventeen missed calls from my mother and, I kid you not, thirty-six text messages. Half of them are empty. She’s not an experienced texter,” Hunnigan smirked, sat up and dialed her mother. Helena leaned her head into her palm and watched Hunnigan get up from the bed as her mother answered the phone. Helena couldn’t make out what she was saying but she could hear the agitated tone through the phone.

“Sí, lo sé, mamá, pero esto era una emergencia. Literalmente de vida o muerte. A ver, si quisiera hacer algo solo para ponerte mal, no me habría molestado siquiera en venir en un primer momento.”

Hunnigan pinched the bridge of her nose before lowering her hand to rest on her hip as she listened to the angry rant continue.

"Soy una adulta, no necesito pedirte permiso. No me importa que seas mi madre, no te da el derecho a actuar de la forma que haces. No voy a tener esta discusión, voy a colgar. Te veré cuando te vuelva a ver."

Hunnigan ended the call and muttered something under her breath before turning to face Helena, who slowly got out of bed as well.

“I don’t speak Spanish and I only understand it if it's spoken slowly and in a horrible American accent, but I get the feeling your mother was not happy with you and wants you to come home,” she chuckled.  
“That about sums it up,” Hunnigan confirmed. “So, get ready and let’s go.”

“What are you talking about?”  
“If you think I’m just gonna leave you alone in here, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Jesus Christ, Hunnigan, I’m fine, I’m not gonna do anything!”  
“No you’re not because you’re coming with me. Unless you’d rather I’ll have you involuntarily hospitalized.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Helena narrowed her eyes, quickly becoming genuinely agitated.  
“Watch me.”

“If you do that, I’ll never forgive you.”  
“At least you’ll be alive to hold a grudge,” Hunnigan shrugged.

“You really are serious,” Helena muttered and Hunnigan nodded before tugging the borrowed T-shirt over her head and tossing it to Helena before reaching for her own clothes, oblivious to Helena’s gaze washing over her.  
“Of course I am. Now, chop-chop, take a shower while I scrounge up something to eat and let’s go,” Hunnigan said and headed out toward the kitchen, Helena following behind her.

“I doubt your parents would appreciate you showing up with a stray human at Christmas.”  
“According to my mother, I’ve already ruined everything, so you being there wouldn’t make things worse. If anything, it might save me from my mother’s wrath. She’s less likely to murder me if there are witnesses.”

“This makes me very uncomfortable. Don’t make me do this,” Helena pleaded. It was bad enough that her mind was in the gutter first thing in the morning and she doubted it would resurface anytime soon, add to that the fact that she was extremely hungover. She genuinely didn’t believe she would be capable of handling meeting Hunnigan’s parents in this state.

“I’m not going to force you, but I really am worried about you and wouldn’t want you to be alone.”  
“How about a compromise; I’ll text you every five minutes so you’ll know I’m alive,” Helena smirked and Hunnigan smiled.

“I guess that’ll have to do,” she said and opened the fridge, hoping to find something to make breakfast out of but found only an almost empty bottle of cola and half a bottle of rum, along with an expired jug of milk, one egg, and ketchup.  
“You live like this?” she quirked an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t really planning on living.”  
“Helena.”

“Too soon?”  
“Much,” Hunnigan sighed and slammed the fridge door shut. “Okay. Plan B, we’re going to my place.”

“Look, I can just order take out, I’ll be fine!”  
“You know I won’t let this go, so just indulge me,” Hunnigan rolled her eyes. Helena exhaled deeply and gave up. She got dressed, grabbed her shoulder bag and was about to grab her gun when Hunnigan gripped her wrist.

“The gun stays here.”  
“I feel naked without it.”

“I don’t care,” Hunnigan said and tugged on Helena, dragging her outside.  
“Nice wheels,” Helena commented when Hunnigan pointed out the black SUV and they climbed in.

“It’s Major’s. Then again, he did admit he used the alimony as the money down for this, so technically I _did_ pay for a part,” Hunnigan chuckled as she started the engine.  
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the ex-wife paying the alimony, usually it’s the other way around,” Helena muttered.

“I suppose it is rare. We agreed on a lump sum and got it over with. Back then the intention was to cut ties and not have to deal with each other, but then Seeley happened, and I couldn’t just _not_ tell him,” Hunnigan shared.  
“He seemed glad to have him,” Helena said and only when Hunnigan frowned a little, she realized she’d slipped information she shouldn’t have had, she wasn’t supposed to know about how happy Major had been when he’d discovered Hunnigan had been pregnant. “You know, based on how he interacted with Seeley, granted I didn’t witness much, but compared to how my parents were, you know,” she tried saving it, barely managing to not stammer and trip over her words, an unpleasant heat rising to her face when the terror of possibly getting caught spying gripped her heart.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Hunnigan commented and Helena dared to breathe again when Hunnigan seemed to let it go without questioning Helena about it. After a few minutes, they arrived at the apartment building where Hunnigan lived.

Helena had half expected Hunnigan’s home to be decorated with black and chrome, and with minimalist furniture. Instead, she seemed to prefer shades of brown and beige, the tones giving the apartment a warm overall feeling.

“Watch your step,” Hunnigan said as she went ahead, kicking Seeley’s toys cluttering the floor to the side to clear a path.  
“No worries,” Helena said.

“You can leave your bag and coat there, I’ll go grab you a fresh towel.”  
“Towel? What, why?”

“For drying off after a shower, unless you’re the type who just shakes off like a wet dog,” Hunnigan smirked.  
“Well, no, but... okay, fine, I do need a shower,” Helena sighed and took her shoes off before following Hunnigan to the bathroom. She accepted the towel and closed the door behind Hunnigan who excused herself to make breakfast while Helena showered.

She undressed and humphed agitatedly at herself when she noticed the dried white stains in her underwear from last night’s self-indulgence, cursing her stupidity over not having taken the time to change. Now she’d need to wear them even after showering, or go commando, neither option sounding exactly appealing.

 _Oh, come now, it’s not the end of the world, and it’s not like this is the first time you’ve had to go about the day wearing cum-stained undies,_ Sergeant Good reminded her and Helena suddenly felt like vomiting.

 _You’re disgusting. You’re sick!_ her grandmother’s voice joined in. Right now, Helena was inclined to agree, even though a tiny voice within was trying to contradict the statement, rather reminding her there was nothing wrong with her. It was quickly silenced, assassinated by the loud chorus of hate.

She showered quickly and toweled off just as fast before proceeding to pull her jeans back on in the humid air, the fabric clinging to her skin. Getting her bra on was worse and even more uncomfortable. She muttered every curse she could think of as she unrolled the garment and pulled it down while having to lift her breasts to adjust them in a desperate attempt to find a comfortable fit.

 _I’m getting a breast reduction,_ she grumbled internally after finally getting everything in place and put on her T-shirt. She then shoved the panties into her pocket and finally exited the bathroom.

When she entered the kitchen, Hunnigan told her to take a seat and placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her, then retrieved the bread from the cabinet and finally, the butter, tomatoes and cucumber from the fridge. Helena didn’t honestly think she could eat all that, but didn’t bother telling that to Hunnigan who seemed determined to ensure she had a decent breakfast.

“Coffee’s almost done, grab some if you want, I’m gonna go shower and I’ll be with you soon,” she said.

“Thank you,” Helena managed before Hunnigan went. She ate the eggs and the bacon first, slowly growing more hungry as she did, and when she was finished, she decided she had room for a sandwich. She made one and went to grab coffee to wash it down with. She let out an amused scoff when she looked into the fridge and saw how immaculately clean and well organized it was; somehow little things like that were so Hunnigan. Helena grabbed the small glass container and poured milk from it into her coffee and walked around the apartment as she sipped it and ate her sandwich.

The apartment’s walls were mostly decorated with framed photo collages, most with pictures of Hunnigan with Seeley, some of them had pictures of people Helena assumed were relatives and friends. Helena leaned in to take a closer look of a photo in which Hunnigan seemed to be on a small stage with a guitar, accompanied by a few others with their instruments. She looked like she was probably in her late teens in the photo.

 _Well, who knew, you used to be a rock star,_ Helena smiled a little. There were a few similar ones, and more that seemed to be taken at parties, there was even one in which she was apparently grabbing a drink with Leon, his arm over her shoulders as she leaned her head to his, both of them raising their drinks to whoever had been holding the camera.

Next was a series which Helena assumed was from Hunnigan’s college days, the photo of her in action on a basketball court catching her attention immediately.

_Oh, that’s going in the wank bank, amirite?_

“For the love of God, just shut up,” Helena muttered to herself and sighed, moving to look over the bookshelf. The books there were mostly crime novels and some science fiction, a collection of various trophies and medals on the top of the shelf in a neat row.

 _She really likes to win,_ Helena smiled and returned to the kitchen. Hunnigan joined her shortly after finishing her shower and getting dressed, tying her wet hair back.

“Want a refill?” she inquired as she poured herself a mug and Helena nodded.  
“Thanks.”

“Where’d you get milk?” Hunnigan frowned as she turned to put the pot back in its place.  
“...the fridge, where else?” Helena chuckled as she sipped her coffee.

“Yeah, but I don’t... oh, dear.”  
“What? What’s happening, why are you making that face?” Helena narrowed her eyes when Hunnigan bit her lower lip as she was desperately trying not to laugh.

“It’s breastmilk.”  
“It’s _what!_ ”

“I still nurse Seeley, but I donate the surplus, I just put it in the fridge to wait until I could freeze it,” Hunnigan explained and lost her poker face.  
“I just thought you’d stored the rest of a milk jug in a smaller container to make more room in the fridge!”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it has a lot of health benefits,” Hunnigan wheezed and doubled over.  
“It’s not funny,” Helena pouted.

“It’s _huh-larious!”  
_“Promise me we’ll never speak of this!” Helena said and without thinking went to take another drink from her mug, realizing she was doing it only when Hunnigan howled with laughter at what she was doing. Helena let the coffee dribble back into the mug.

***


	10. Chapter 10

Helena took a seat at the bar and checked her phone, more than a little disappointed to discover she had imagined it vibrating, there were no new messages. Hunnigan had spoken with her the entire drive to New York and after she’d ended the call, Helena had realized just how damn quiet it was in her apartment, so she’d decided to head out to her favorite bar after checking to make sure it was open on Christmas day.

“Helena Fucking Harper, what are you doing here on a day like this?” the bartendress asked and Helena smirked.  
“Jane Fucking Palmer, I’m here ordering a drink,” she said and the bartendress was already mixing it, remembering Helena’s go-to drink by heart.

“I take it you two know each other,” a male voice commented and Helena turned to look to her side. “Or then you’re just incredibly rude to each other for no reason,” Leon added as he took a seat on the barstool next to Helena and ordered a whiskey, neat.  
“We served together, she saved my life in Afghanistan,” Jane said and served Leon his drink.

“I was only doing my job.”

“What happened?” Leon asked and Helena sighed a little as Jane told the story. From her point of view, it sounded like Helena was a hero. From Helena’s point of view, she was not. She hated being considered larger than life only for doing duty. Besides, she hadn’t saved everyone. She hadn’t saved Maxima.

“We were supporting a team that was hunting some high priority targets and our vehicle hit an IED, and before anyone knew what the hell was happening, we were being pelted with rockets and bullets, and this one carries me and three others to cover and patches us up so we don’t just die while waiting for backup.”

“It was nothing, besides, you didn’t even weigh anything with your leg blown off,” Helena smirked and Jane guffawed.  
“I didn’t know you served. Thank you f-” Leon said began to say and Helena groaned loudly.

“Yes, yes, you’re welcome for my service,” she sighed and downed the shot Jane had poured her.  
“Most of us don’t actually like it when people say that,” Jane whispered loudly and refilled Helena’s glass, only to need to do it again a few seconds later after Helena greedily emptied it. She wanted to skip right to the passing out in a pool of vomit-part.

“Sorry.”  
“It’s fine, I know you and everyone saying it mean well,” Helena said.

“You wanna get a table and sit with me?” Leon asked and Helena narrowed her eyes at him.  
“If you’re thinking of hitting on me, now is really not the time.”

“I wasn’t, I was just asking if you wanted to sit with me so neither of us has to look like the losers we are, getting drunk alone on a Christmas day,” he chuckled.  
“All right. Jane, can we get a couple of Zombie Punches. Supersize ‘em and put them on his tab,” she then smirked and Leon scoffed amusedly.

“Zombie punch, really?” he asked.  
“It’s got all kinds of tasty goodness and a ton of rum, and it’s served in a _vase,_ you’ll love it,” she assured him.

“Well, the serving size certainly has my attention,” he laughed.  
“Why are you here?”

“Same as you, to get drunk.”  
“I would’ve imagined you’d have somewhere else to be,” Helena frowned a little. He informed her that Sherry was with Claire and Chris, and they’d travelled to spend the holidays with Barry Burton and his family.

“They did invite me to go with them, but I didn’t want to because I already know I would’ve messed up their Christmas too, so I rather stuck with my own tradition, which is to get drunk and spend quality time alone,” he said, then turned his attention to Jane when she served him the cocktail which came in a large copper vase, like Helena had said it would.

“Wow, I’m gonna have to remember this drink so I can order it again,” he commented after taking a taste.

“I’m sure you’ll remember,” Helena grinned as she slid down from the barstool and went to sit at a table with Leon, not telling him she was sure he’d remember when he’d get his credit card statement and realize the cocktail in question cost over sixty dollars if supersized.

“So, why are _you_ here?” he then asked her as he took a seat across from her.

“I wasn’t invited to go anywh... well, okay, technically, I was kind of invited somewhere,” Helena corrected herself when she recalled Hunnigan having threatened to take her with her to New York, “but it would’ve been awkward so I decided to stay home and get drunk. It’s my tradition too,” she said.

“Listen... I’ve been around long enough to notice when people aren’t okay and frankly, you don’t seem okay. Plus, I know a thing or two about what it’s like when one moment you’re thrilled to be alive and the next you’re sort of disappointed that you’re alive,” he said and Helena quirked an eyebrow.

“I seem disappointed to be alive?”  
“No, but like... when the investigation was over and you didn’t get the death penalty, you seemed relieved, but recently, you’ve seemed a bit down, and I just thought...” he trailed off and shrugged one shoulder a little.

Truthfully, he wasn’t wrong, not completely. Helena had been relieved... but that had been _before_ the charges against her had been dismissed. She’d been relieved when she’d thought she would be given the lethal injection which she believed was the default punishment when it came to dealing with people who were pretty much single-handedly responsible for the President’s death. She’d _wanted_ the death penalty. She’d finished her mission, Simmons was dead, Deborah was avenged, there was nothing left to do, it should’ve been the end of her story.

But then, Hunnigan had happened, just like she’d happened last night. Helena wasn’t sure if she should consider Hunnigan her personal savior or a goddess of torture and punishment sent to ensure Helena wouldn’t be given the easy exit she wanted.

“I almost killed myself yesterday,” Helena said frankly and Leon paused for a few seconds, swallowed the drink in his mouth and cleared his throat, and Helena could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to think of something to say. She spoke again before he did, offering him a little more time to think, although she wasn’t sure what she was expecting him to say, or if she wanted him to say anything in the first place.

“I literally had my gun in my mouth, and I was already pulling the trigger when Hunnigan showed up,” she said and continued to explain the whole situation and what had happened later that night and today (leaving out the embarrassing part about the breast milk in her coffee).

“And now I’m torn between feeling grateful for everything she’s done and angry because I didn’t ask her to come over here, but she did and now it’s on me that her parents are pissed off and she couldn’t be there with son this morning.”  
“Sounds like she really cares about you, what a bitch,” Leon commented sarcastically and took a long sip of his drink, sucking on the straw hard enough to dent his cheeks.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. Listen... I’ve been there. After Raccoon City, I was determined to take down Umbrella and I was thrilled to have survived, but that feeling and that bravado faded a lot faster than I would’ve imagined. I started realizing how shitty things are when a pharmaceutical company can run an entire city and use its people as human guinea pigs without their consent, and no one bats an eye. The corruption of it all and the feeling of helplessness when I thought of how little I can do alone sent me spiraling,” he shared and shook his head a little before leaning to take another long sip of his drink.

“What did you do?” Helena asked quietly.

“Put my gun to my head. Like you, I was already pulling the trigger, but then I thought... what would that accomplish? I’d be the coward who gave up. I’d be abandoning Sherry. She was just a kid, she’d...” he paused to swallow hard and take a few deep breaths as he struggled to keep the stoic mask on and hide the fact that he was about to cry when he though back on it all.

“She’d gotten infected, she’d lost her parents, Claire had ran off too, and now after all that, Sherry was practically held hostage and experimented on by our own government, I couldn’t just leave her. Even if I didn’t do much good in the end, at least I was there... until I wasn’t,” Leon mumbled and took another drink, deciding to leave the straw out and drink straight from the vase instead.

“It turned out okay this way, I suppose... even if it doesn’t always really feel like it,” he said and took another drink.  
“What do you do when the pain comes back and starts getting overwhelming?” Helena muttered.  
“The one thing anyone would tell you not to do, I get drunk,” Leon offered a rueful smile.

* * *

“You sound drunk,” Hunnigan commented when she finally had a chance to call Helena again. It was past midnight and everyone else had gone to bed, Hunnigan had the living room to herself.  
“So do you,” Helena countered and Hunnigan chuckled as she poured herself a glass of her father’s scotch, leaned back against the couch’s armrest and raised her feet onto the cushions.

“It’s because I am getting there,” Hunnigan admitted. “Believe me, after the day I’ve had, I _need_ this.”  
“That bad, huh? At least your mother didn’t murder you.”

“Oh, I tell you what, she tried. There was a lot of yelling.”  
“Yelling doesn’t kill you.”

“You haven’t been yelled at by my mother,” Hunnigan laughed softly, twirled the drink in the glass for a moment and took a sip.  
“I’m sorry, Hunnigan. I’m the reason you got in all sorts of trouble.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Coming to check up on you was totally worth getting yelled at. Besides, it’s not like I didn’t get something out of it.”  
“And what’s that?” Helena questioned.

“A hearty laugh when you drank that breast milk latte.”  
“You promised you wouldn’t speak of it again!”

“I promised not to tell anyone else, I didn’t say I wouldn’t tease you about it when it’s just you and I,” Hunnigan laughed quietly and Helena scoffed.  
“Yeah, yeah, a part of you is now inside me, stored in my colon forever, probably. Does that make you happy?” she drawled.

“Well, when you put it like that it just sounds nasty,” Hunnigan said and poured herself another drink. “So, how are you feeling?” she then asked. Helena sighed deeply on the other end of the call and Hunnigan could imagine her rolling her eyes.  
“I’m fine, considering. I don’t feel like talking about it.”

“Perhaps you don’t, but you can’t deny you need help.”  
“You’re my support agent, so support,” Helena chuckled, and Hunnigan did too before informing her that her attempt at dismissing the issue would not work.

“I’m not really the type who shares in a circle.”  
“I know, but it doesn’t change anything, the fact still remains that you need professional help. You can keep stubbornly putting it off, but you shouldn’t. There’s no shame in it and frankly, you’ll feel better once you get started. Don’t you want to feel better?”

“Of course I do. And I know you’re right, but it’s... difficult to get started, you know?” Helena muttered and Hunnigan exhaled deeply. She took a swallow of the scotch.  
“I know. Believe me, I know,” she said quietly.

“Hunnigan?”  
“Yeah?”

“I’m kind of tired, but I don’t want to hang up because I know that the moment I do, I won’t be able to sleep anyway because it’s too quiet. Can you... um... could you wait until I fall asleep before hanging up?” Helena requested.  
“Sure,” Hunnigan said and finished her drink, deciding against pouring another.

“I appreciate it.”  
“Want me to keep talking or...?”

“I would like that. It would be less awkward, I guess,” Helena chuckled a little and yawned, the sound of her bedsheets and blanket swishing clearly audible as she moved, a light scratching sound following as Helena adjusted the cord and the earpiece after getting to bed.

“Once upon a time, a young woman named Amanda Cousland travelled to a fortress known as Ostagar to join king Cailan in his fight against darkspawn that were threatening to overwhelm the kingdom...”

***


	11. Chapter 11

Helena snapped awake, her body covered in sweat, her blanket, pillow and the sheets unpleasantly damp with it as well. Her phone clattered to the floor as a result of her abrupt movement. She yanked the earbuds from her ears and gathered the cord into a messy bunch before tossing it over to the nightstand, then leaned over the edge of the bed to feel the floor for her phone. It took her a while to find it, but when she did, she was relieved to find it was still intact.

Helena blew out a breath and wiped her face and neck. She’d been having a nightmare, nothing out of the ordinary about that, but it had been different from the usual. Most people assumed that the nightmares that came with PTSD were always straight-forward flashbacks to the traumatic events, but that wasn’t the case, at least not how Helena experienced it.

Often, the dreams became odd combinations of her childhood, her experiences in the military, and ordinary things she’d done during the day, people she’d spoken with, or thought about before falling asleep. That resulted in dreams like the one in which she’d found herself under attack at a grocery store, only the enemies were armed with huge wooden hair brushes rather than assault rifles, and the weapons Helena had with her were useless.

This dream had been worse. She’d dreamt she was back at the site of the explosion, only the explosion hadn’t been caused by an IED, but by a huge dragon, breathing fireballs at her as she tried to save her teammates, Leon and Jane fighting off a horde of zombies trying to get to her, Jane beating them back with her prosthetic leg to buy time as Helena tried to save Maxima who wasn’t Maxima but Hunnigan, or what was left of her, her upper half not dead but not alive either. Then her teeth had been on Helena’s throat, then _in_ her throat, and she woke up, a phantom pain stinging on the side of her neck where she’d been bitten in her dream.

Helena took a few shuddering breaths and blinked rapidly in an attempt to dispel the horrible mental image that kept popping back the harder she tried to push it away. She sighed and got up, having to take a moment to cough violently, regretting having smoked so much last night; her throat was sore. She then went to plug her phone into the charger and powered it back on.

_I’m assuming your battery drained. I hope you slept well, and good morning! Text me when you get this, okay?_ a message from Hunnigan read. She’d sent it about two in the morning which was when Helena supposed the phone call had ended.

_You were right the battery died. I slept ok thanks for asking how was your night did you get any sleep? I’m sorry if it got weird i don’t remember much of the call but i do recall asking you to stay on the line awkward huh lol_

Helena blew out a breath and went to the kitchen, filled a tall glass with water and drank it greedily, needing a refill immediately after.

“Oh, God,” she breathed heavily, filled the glass once more and took it with her to the bedroom. Right now, she had no intention of getting out of bed today unless she absolutely had to.

_Well, it gave me an excuse to ramble on about_ Dragon age _, so it was my pleasure. How are you feeling?_

Helena smiled a little at the concern, she couldn’t recall anyone really worrying about her this much. Granted, she didn’t think she’d ever given anyone quite as much reason to worry as she had given to Hunnigan recently.

_I’m ok. Really. I appreciate your concern but i don’t want you to worry about me i’m ok,_ Helena assured and put the phone away yet again. She ran her tongue over her teeth and decided to go brush them before settling to lay back down. It wouldn’t take away her headache or the nausea, but it would make her feel closer to human again. She’d just finished rinsing her mouth when she suffered another vicious coughing fit.

“Fuck, maybe it isn’t the cigarettes, maybe I’m getting sick,” she exhaled deeply after recovering. “Just what I needed,” she added in a mutter and went to the bedroom. She took her laptop and put it on a chair which she then dragged over next to the bed before diving under the covers. She opened it and navigated to Netflix, browsed for a moment for something to watch, something that didn’t require her to be able to fully pay attention to it. Cartoons tended to work best for hangover days like this. Her phone chimed and she grabbed it.

_I worry because I care, that’s all._

Helena stared at the words for a long time as she contemplated on what to reply.

_The fact that you care means the world to me._

She would’ve wanted to say something more but didn’t know quite what it would be. She gave up and put the phone away. She was sure Hunnigan had better things to do at the moment, she’d probably text or call Helena later.

_No, she won’t because as soon as the holidays are over and you have no excuses for not seeking professional help, Hunnigan is gonna abandon you. You won’t be her problem anymore, you’ll be the hospital’s problem, the agency shrink’s problem, but not hers, and she will have no more reasons to keep talking to you,_ her grandmother’s voice crept into her mind and Helena swallowed hard. She would’ve wanted to deny it but couldn’t, the odds were her grandmother was right. Hunnigan was just doing her duty keeping Helena alive until she could pass her to the next person, what else would it be, why would she genuinely care?

_No one cares about you. No one’s looking after you, why would they? You don’t deserve it, you’re here to perform a service and be happy you were useful, don’t you even dare expect others to care for you. Who do you think you are, someone who matters? Don’t flatter yourself, you stupid bitch._

Helena jumped a little when her phone rang and she hurried to answer it.

“Yes?”  
“Hey. Just checking up on you,” Leon’s voice came from the other end.

“I’m fine, but thanks. And thanks for listening to me the entire evening,” Helena said.  
“Anytime. And hey... I know everything hurts right now, but remember that a lot of people are alive because you saved them. Keep that in mind when you’re tempted to beat yourself up, okay?” he said and Helena smiled.

“Thank you.”

“So... this might be a long shot, but you wanna hang out?” Leon then inquired. Helena’s first instinct was to tell him he didn’t need to come over to keep an eye on her, that she was fine, that she wouldn’t do anything stupid. Then she paused to consider that perhaps he needed the company as much as she did.

“I’ll bring ruuu-uuummm,” he added in a sing-song-y voice before she had a chance to answer.  
“Augh, don’t talk about rum to me or I’ll throw up. How can you even consider drinking again?” she groaned and he laughed softly.

“I don’t get hungover anymore.”  
“That is not normal and it’s definitely a sign of alcoholism rather than something you should be bragging about,” Helena pointed out.

“Do you wanna hang out or not?” Leon asked, ignoring Helena’s argument regarding his excessive drinking.  
“I do, actually,” Helena then said, gave him her address and ended the call after he’d promised to be there shortly.

* * *

 

Hunnigan’s entire back ached thanks to having slept on a mattress that was too soft compared to what she was used to. She was tempted to ask Major for a backrub, but decided against it. She knew herself (and him) well enough to know it would very likely turn into one of those “one thing leads to another”-moments, and that could get awkward.

Then again, her mother had already made things awkward in almost every imaginable way, starting from berating Hunnigan over the fact that she still breastfed Seeley, to practically shoving Hunnigan and Major’s faces together and screaming “now kiss!” She failed to understand and accept the thing Major and Hunnigan had realized about their relationship long ago.

They loved each other, but they’d never really been _in love_ with each other, that was the problem. They were friends, they got along, they had fun, but they were not lovers. The reason Hunnigan had agreed to marry him was mostly because her mother had pressured her about it. After all, there was something “so pathetic about a bride in her thirties”, as she’d kindly put it, so it wasn’t like Hunnigan could afford to dilly-dally, even if at the time she’d been in her early twenties. As for why Major had proposed in the first place, Hunnigan assumed it was also an idea her mother had implanted into his head, coupled with the belief that once you find a girl you like and get along with, marry her to make sure she won’t run off.

There was one thing Hunnigan missed about being married to him, and that was the sex. She hated how shallow it made her sound (when she imagined Major saying the same about her, it hardly felt like a compliment), but it was the unfortunate truth. He was a patient, dedicated lover and over the years they’d been together, he’d gotten very skilled at pleasing her specifically by figuring out her likes and sensitive spots and how to manipulate them the best. The man was great in bed, how was she supposed to _not_ miss having sex with him?

That was yet another thing Hunnigan hadn’t been able to simply accept about herself thanks to how she’d been raised; she’d been told her entire life that women weren’t allowed to like sex, they weren’t allowed to have sex just for the sake of having sex. They were supposed to withhold it, use it to reward their spouse or give it as a gift during special occasions, nothing more. Only men were allowed to actively want sex and feel horny, women weren’t supposed to be like that. If a woman enjoyed sex, she was a slut, no ifs, buts or ands about it.

_Such an idiotic thing to believe,_ she humphed internally.

“Major,” Hunnigan said, turning to face him.  
“Hmm?”

“Do you want to have sex?”

He opened one eye and looked at her silently for a long time before closing it again.

“This feels like entrapment of some kind.”  
“A lesser woman would probably be offended by your obvious lack of enthusiasm,” she smirked.

“Believe me, it’s taking a lot of effort to remain this cool about it.”  
“It’s a simple yes or no-question.” Hunnigan chuckled. “No strings attached, I just want to use you for your body,” she added with a grin and he cleared his throat a little.

“I admit, I’m tempted, but the thing is... I’m seeing someone,” he said.  
“Oh, well, in that case, nevermind,” Hunnigan laughed softly.

“Sorry,” he said awkwardly and Hunnigan frowned.  
“Why are you apologizing? Don’t make this weird,” she said and he smiled. “So, how’d you meet? What’s her name?”

“Josephine. She works at the profiling unit, we met at work,” he said.  
“Has she met Seeley yet?” Hunnigan asked.

“No. She knows about him and she has said she would want to meet him, but I wanted to wait to see how serious this would get... and I wanted you to meet her first. I figured if you were seeing someone and it was serious, I’d want to meet the guy to see what kind of a step-dad Seeley would have, so I wanted you to get a chance to meet her first, you know?” Major shrugged one shoulder a little and Hunnigan nodded in agreement.

“I’m really glad you’ve found someone,” she then said, and sincerely meant it too.  
“Me too. I’m just terrified of telling Isabela about it, she might crucify me when she finds out,” Major jested and Hunnigan chuckled, shaking her head a little. She knew her mother well enough to know she wouldn’t blame Major.

“Nah, mom will make it my fault for letting you go in the first place, so don’t worry about it,” she assured him.

Seeley grumbled sleepily and sat up in his bed, looking around with his eyes barely open, needing a moment to figure out where he was when it became clear to him he wasn’t in his own room back in D.C..

“Would you get him dressed and get some breakfast into him? I gotta do something about my tits,” Hunnigan smirked.  
“They look fine to me,” Major commented and Hunnigan rolled her eyes.

“I was drinking last night, so I’m technically full of spoiled goods,” she poked her tongue out at him.  
“All right, all right,” he chuckled, got out of bed and picked Seeley up. “Morning, little dude. You wanna go see if we can scrounge up something to eat?” he asked and the boy nodded, still sleepily rubbing his eyes before slipping his arms around Major’s neck as he carried him out of the bedroom.

Hunnigan took out the breast pump from her bag, assembled it and got to work, the procedure a familiar routine by now but still occasionally more than just a tad boring and somewhat uncomfortable. She checked her phone, glad to see Helena had responded to her earlier message.

Hunnigan had a chance to exchange a few messages with Helena before Isabela entered the room and before even saying anything made a tiny obviously disgusted noise at the sight that greeted her.

“Really, mom?” Hunnigan scoffed at that.  
“Well, honestly, you should stop that unless you want Seeley to still be clamped to your _tetas_ when he’s forty,” Isabela huffed.

“I don’t understand why you can’t grasp the concept of me not wanting to feed anything artificial to my baby. Besides, it’s good for his immune system.”  
“He’s two years old, not a baby.”

“I’ve seen some people breastfeed eight year olds.”  
“Well, that’s just great, I’m sure it had nothing to do with the mother’s need to feel herself important,” Isabela scoffed sarcastically.

“What do you want, mom?” Hunnigan sighed, angry at herself for letting herself get tangled this deep into the same old argument in the first place, she’d sworn she wouldn’t, but her mother had a way of getting under her skin with her disapproving scoffs and remarks, and roping her into an argument. What made it more ridiculous was the subject of the argument, there shouldn’t have been anything to argue about, this wasn’t something Isabela should’ve had a say in in the first place. But of course, that had never stopped her from giving her brutally honest opinions.

Hunnigan had tried remaining calm and reasonable with her, she’d repeatedly reminded herself of the fact that this infuriating woman who loved picking her apart was still her mother and the only mother she’d ever have, and that she should respect that. Another part of her felt like that wasn’t exactly right either, it was just something she’d been raised to believe, implanted world views.

Women who liked sex were sluts. If you didn’t have an impressive job title, you were a loser. If you breastfed your kid beyond one year, you were weird and doing wrong. You should always respect your elders, it didn’t matter that they hadn’t necessarily done anything to earn it. Coconut tasted horrible and no one should ever eat it.

The list went on and on, and Hunnigan was rather embarrassed to admit that up until a couple of years back, she’d listened. She’d always done as she’d been told, nevermind that she liked things such as coconut (something as small as that had become an argument when Isabela had in all seriousness questioned Hunnigan’s mental health simply because she’d said she liked coconut), if Isabela said it was no good, it was no good, end of discussion.

It hadn’t been until Hunnigan had made the decision to divorce Major that she’d stopped to think that maybe it was time she began doing things for herself, living her own life the way she wanted to live it rather than live it so that her mother approved. The trick was coming to the realization that nothing she’d ever do would be enough because even when she’d done her best to be exactly the way her mother had wanted her to be, it hadn’t been enough. Her various achievements and skills weren’t impressive enough, her job wasn’t impressive enough; her marriage to Major had been the only thing Isabela had approved of (even though she’d felt they’d taken too long to get married), but that approval had come at a high cost for Hunnigan and also to Major. Had they not been pressured and relentlessly hounded about it, the odds were they would’ve had the time to realize they were never meant to be more than friends.

_Aren’t you a little too old to blame everything on mommy?_ Hunnigan asked herself internally. Maybe she was, but it didn’t change the fact that her mother _had_ played an important role in pushing Hunnigan to take the paths which had led to disappointing and hurtful dead ends.

“Nothing, just came to see if you’re still here or if you’d run off in the middle of the night again.”

Hunnigan inhaled through her nose, held it in while counting to ten, and finally exhaled deeply. Only this time, her trusty method to cool off before saying things she would regret didn’t quite work.

_I can't do this anymore. I won't. I'm done. I'm so fucking done._

***


	12. Chapter 12

“Got you beat; I was a cop for a day. Literally, one day,” Helena said and Leon held up a finger to silently tell her to hold on while he finished his drink.  
“No, no, I can do better. I also was a cop for one day, _but,_ first day on the job... Raccoon City. Boom, baby.”

“Well, shit,” Helena grumbled and took a long drink of rum as were the rules according to the drinking game Leon had come up with, neither one of them any longer remembering what the exact rules were.  
“So, what’s your story?” Leon asked, knowing Helena was already aware of his as far as the Raccoon City incident went.

“First day on the job and a detective working on a string of rape-homicides brings in a suspect and the guy is being all smug about what he’s accused of, making derogatory comments about women, and I could live with that, I’m used to it, shit like that happens every day, some guys like to walk around thinking they’re superior when in reality they’re somewhere between a chicken and a human female as far as evolution goes...” Helena began agitatedly and paused to take a long drink.

“How does that... I mean... so, wait, how...?” Leon frowned and also took a drink.  
“Three holes,” Helena said, holding up three fingers to emphasize her point and Leon’s eyebrows rose high.

“...I don’t know what that means.”

“Women have three holes; one for pissing, one for periods and babies, one for shitting. Men only have two, you cum and piss from the same hole and that is disgusting. You didn’t evolve. Not to mention that the only reason your balls have to hang outside your body is because you can’t even keep your stupid cum alive in normal body temperature! So, evolution-wise, does a being whose reproductive organs have to be outside their bodies and left vulnerable in order for them to remain fertile sound like the superior kind to you? Does it!” Helena ranted and Leon held up his hands in a surrendering gesture.

“Someone needs to calm down.”  
“Why, because I’m ‘hysterical’?” Helena scoffed.

“No, because you’re making me feel bad,” Leon smirked, “I wasn’t given a choice regarding where my reproductive organs end up being.”  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on you, it’s not like women are flawless either, believe me, I know that too. But you gotta admit it’s typically the guys who act like they are superior when all the evidence suggests otherwise.”

“I think some people are shit regardless of their gender and leave it at that,” Leon chuckled, finished his drink and reached for the bottle of rum on the coffee table, fixing himself a fresh drink. Helena wasn’t done with hers, but he poured more rum into her glass as well. At this point they were both drunk enough to not be able to taste the alcohol, so he didn’t bother leaving room for a the mixer.

“Cheers, I’ll drink to that!” Helena agreed and clinked her glass against his. “What were we talking about?” she then frowned.  
“You were telling me how you were a cop for a day.”

“Oh yeah! So, there was that piece of shit, making lewd remarks about my looks, hootin’ and hollerin’ from the cell, and that didn’t get to me, I don’t give a shit most of the time. But when one of the two surviving victims came in and he pulled his dick out and started jerking off, I had to do something.”

“And what did you do?” Leon asked, knowing it couldn’t have been anything good, but hoping it was something even worse than what he could think of off the top of his head. Anyone disgusting enough to do what that suspect had done deserved the worst.

“I got into the cell with him and stabbed him in the crotch with a ballpoint pen. The wounds got infected and his dick and balls basically fell off as a result,” Helena chuckled. “I guess it’s cruel to laugh but I’m not sorry, he deserved it. I hate rapists,” she then added through clenched teeth.

“For what it’s worth, I approve,” Leon nodded.

“Thanks, it’s worth a lot. Most people wouldn’t. At least not publicly because they like to think they’re above all that, above the violence, above the anger, but at the end of the day, they’re the ones who cause the most trouble because they bottle that shit up until one day, they end up murdering their family just because someone put the toilet paper roll in the wrong way,” Helena shrugged. “I didn’t get charged since there was no evidence... the security cameras happened to conveniently glitch when I allegedly stabbed the suspect,” she continued and Leon scoffed.

Conveniently indeed. He would’ve wanted to condemn such actions from whoever had been in charge of disappearing the evidence, but in all honesty, had it been up to him and he’d been put in a position to try and save a fellow cop’s career or help an unapologetic rapist/murderer end the cop’s career... there was no doubt about it, he’d choose the cop’s career despite knowing it isn’t the right thing to do. But justice can’t always be black and white.

“...but I did get fired after a very short investigation by internal affairs.”  
“So, how did you go from disgraced cop to DSO agent?” Leon quirked an eyebrow and Helena smiled.

“Hunnigan must’ve been headhunting and on paper, I am golden... unless you read to the very end where they discuss my less than sunny disposition. Then that thing with Deborah’s piece of shit boyfriend happened, and my transfer was canceled.”  
“What did happen?”

“He beat her, I shot his ear off. He sued, jury deadlocked... and before I knew it, I was being shipped off to Secret Service. It didn’t make sense to me at the time, but I wasn’t about to argue over it, it was a good thing I’d have a job at all considering my various indiscretions. Little did I know it was because Simmons had made it happen so he could use me for his own goals. I guess me shooting that jerk’s ear off showed Simmons just how far I’d go to protect Deborah and he saw his opportunity,” Helena grumbled.

“Well, hey. You’re here now, that’s what matters.”  
“Hah, tell that to agents like Skylark who think I’m fucking people to keep my job,” Helena scoffed and Leon laughed hard.

“Fucking who, the agency’s out and proud gay director?” he chuckled into his glass as he took a drink and Helena shrugged, not commenting. Leon didn’t ask again and instead turned their attention back to their drinking game.

“The most embarrassing thing you’ve done. Beat this: I thought Claire was seeing this Neil-guy, and I got jealous, got drunk, went to her apartment building and started screaming under her window ‘Claire, don’t fuck him, you don’t have to fuck me either, but just don’t fuck him’. She heard it. As did the whole building and probably the building on the other side of the street too,” Leon said and Helena smirked victoriously.

“Got you beat, I drank Hunnigan’s breast milk.”  
“Oh, come on!” Leon spat in the middle of taking a drink from his glass, the rum spraying from his mouth and flowing over the edge of the glass as he did, and Helena nodded to confirm.

“I did.”  
“What, like straight from the source?” he asked, a slightly lewd grin tugging the corner of his mouth as he thought about it.

“No,” Helena scoffed, rolling her eyes.  
“There are Japanese men who pay good money to do that, don’t mock it,” Leon commented and Helena quirked an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to know why you are so knowledgeable regarding Japanese men’s consumption of breast milk,” Helena said and explained to him what had happened the other day.  
“Okay, you win everything, because there is nothing I can think of that would beat drinking Hunnigan’s breast milk,” Leon gave up, not elaborating what it was Helena won exactly because at this point neither of them really knew.

“Please, there was just a splash of it in my coffee, when you word it like that it sounds like I was chugging the stuff,” Helena sighed.  
“I prefer my interpretation of it better,” Leon smiled sweetly and theatrically tilted his head back closing his eyes as he exaggerated imagining it.

“You’re one sick puppy, agent Kennedy.”  
“What can I say, I have mommy issues,” he smirked and Helena snorted.

“Got you beat.”  
“How so?” he frowned.

“Nevermind, I don’t wanna get into it,” Helena shook her head. “Wanna see something cool?” she then changed the subject. Leon nodded and Helena went to grab her laptop.  
“But if it’s that video of the two girls with the cup, then don’t, I’ve already seen it and the novelty has worn off,” he then said and Helena grimaced.

“I asked if you wanted to see something cool, and that’s what you think I’d label as cool? What is wrong with you?” she asked and Leon shrugged one shoulder. When she opened the laptop’s lip and accidentally hit space while doing that, the video she’d been looking at earlier continued playing.

“... _and this is all really simple, you just need to practice it on one string and expand from there, add a little speed and voilá. It's just tap, pick, pull; the way it sounds when played makes it seem harder than it is, but trust me, it’s one of the easiest things you can learn. So, learn it and blow the minds of everyone who thinks these are ultra-complicated riffs_.”

“Is that Hunnigan?” Leon frowned and leaned over to look at the screen, and Helena laughed awkwardly.  
“Yes, and it’s not what I meant to show you, so ignore this.”

“I didn’t know she had a channel.”  
“She doesn’t, this is her brother’s, she’s just a featuring artist,” Helena said, realizing only after she’d said it how much of a stalker she sounded like, going through someone’s brother’s channel looking for content featuring them. Fortunately for her, Leon didn’t notice it or decided not to comment on that.

“I don’t think I’ve seen Hunnigan with her hair open ever before now,” Leon mused instead and took a long moment to seriously think about it.  
“So, you wanna see the cool thing I meant to show you?” Helena tried to change the subject.

“No, I’d rather see Hunnigan play ‘Classical gas’,” Leon said and pointed at the thumbnail on the sidebar.  
“Well, it is cooler than the meme-compilation I was about to show,” Helena agreed and clicked on the video.

“ _I won’t fuck up this time,”_ Hunnigan laughed to the man who looked like a male-version of her, with short dark brown hair, a thin handlebar moustache, olive skin, and the same shape blue-gray eyes as Hunnigan’s; obviously that was her brother Nolan.  
_“Yeah, don’t fuck up,”_ he laughed too and Hunnigan began playing the song, making it look deceptively easy, her fingers nimbly picking at the strings, the other hand’s digits effortlessly flowing back and forth on the fretboard.

* * *

Hunnigan’s original plan had been to stay in New York for one more day and come back to D.C. and get to work on the 27th, but the heated discussion she’d gotten into with her mother had made her more than happy to leave a day earlier. Frankly, it hadn’t been much of a discussion, just an exchange of a few but extremely painful words.

_“You’re a tall disappointment!”  
“Of course I am because nothing I do is enough for you! I’ll have you know I have accomplished a lot, but seeing as my life choices offend you so much, maybe it’s better we just stay away from each other for good.” _

When she’d informed her father that she’d be leaving, he’d simply sighed deeply and grumbled something about not blaming her for choosing to do so. When Hunnigan had been a teenager, he’d tried brokering peace between her and Isabela, but it was losing battle, one he’d never been equipped to handle in the first place, so he’d done the next best thing he could think of; stay out of their way and pick up the pieces afterward. Only, it was becoming evident that the pieces would no longer fit together after all the breaking.

Hunnigan glanced into the rearview mirror out of habit and sighed a little, only then recalling it was empty; Seeley would be spending the following week with Major, possibly meeting Josephine after Hunnigan had told Major she didn’t mind if he introduced Seeley to her despite Hunnigan not having met the woman prior. Frankly, Hunnigan wasn’t worried she’d be an unpleasant person, she didn’t think Major would be interested in a woman who was; she was more worried Josephine would turn out to be the fun step-mother Seeley would absolutely fall in love with. Hunnigan found herself genuinely dreading Seeley would prefer Josephine over her.

It was an irrational fear at this point, but from where Hunnigan was looking at it, it wasn’t an unreasonable fear. She knew she hadn’t been home with Seeley as much as she should’ve, and it wasn’t something she took lightly. Seeley himself had muttered something along the lines of “your work’s stupid” when she’d told him she’d be away for a couple of days for work when she’d gone to take part in the team spirit building-day. It didn’t help that her “away mission” had gotten extended because of the snow storm.

Hunnigan interpreted Seeley’s obvious resentment of her work as a symptom of him knowing this evil thing known as “work” was what kept his mother from him most of the day, and sometimes she brought work home, meaning that at times her son was stuck fighting for her attention (often by climbing all over her, occasionally by throwing his toys at her when he got frustrated enough) even at home. It didn’t matter to a two year old (well, almost three) that if his mother didn’t bring work home sometimes, people would be upset because they would have to wait an extra hour for a report they wouldn’t even read properly. Hunnigan doubted there was a way to explain it to him in a way he’d understand why it mattered, sometimes she wasn’t sure she understood it herself either.

_I wonder how long it would take for people to notice if I just stopped sending in the reports,_ Hunnigan scoffed internally. Shepard would notice, eventually. Hunnigan certainly hoped he would because if he wouldn’t, there were bigger problems at the agency than budgeting.

Hunnigan sighed deeply and pulled to a stop at traffic lights. She’d be driving for at least another hour before getting back to D.C. and as much as she did generally enjoy driving, it was getting boring. There was nothing good on the radio and she’d already listened through the songs in the USB-thumbstick she’d connected to the stereo. Frankly, she’d need to update the library of songs soon, there were so few she didn’t feel like just skipping.

_I could use someone to talk to,_ she mused as the light turned green, and an idea came to her.

“Call Helena Harper,” Hunnigan ordered her phone after tapping the earpiece to activate it. The line rang for a while before a male voice answered.

“A-hoy-hoy.”  
“...Leon?” Hunnigan frowned.

“The one and only, what can I do for you?” he chuckled.  
“Nothing, I must’ve gotten the wrong number, I meant to call Helena.”

“Oh, no, it’s the right number, I just picked her phone up. Did you know you’re listed as just ‘Hunnigan’ on her phone? That’s so impersonal. You’re ‘Hunny-Bunny’ in my phone,” Leon chatted, and she sincerely hoped he was joking, but knew he probably wasn’t.  
“Why are you picking up Helena’s phone?” Hunnigan asked.

“Because she’s a lightweight and passed out, and I stayed over because I haven’t finished my drink, but I’ll head out once I am done with it. Want me to wake her up?”  
“No, no, let her sleep, I’ll call her later.”

“All right.”  
“Bye, Leon,” she said and ended the call.

_Well, at least she’s okay,_ Hunnigan thought. _If you consider getting blackout drunk with Leon “okay”, that is._

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tommy Emmanuel plays Classical gas](https://youtu.be/S33tWZqXhnk)
> 
>  
> 
> for those interested in checking out what it was that Hunnigan played in the video Leon and Helena watched. :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's nsfw-ish art at the end of the chapter, so be careful.

Hunnigan lay on the couch and exhaled deeply through her nose. It was quiet in the apartment, the clock’s usually unnoticeable ticking amplified by the lack of sounds from elsewhere; even the hum of the traffic had faded out. She’d gotten started on dinner, namely, ordered a pizza, and decided to lay down and maybe watch something while waiting for it to arrive, but then the silence had overwhelmed her, and she’d stopped to just listen to it.

With the silence had come the odd feeling of... something she couldn’t define. It wasn’t actual depression nor was it sadness, not really apathy either, just... a weird concoction of all of those things, rendering her bored. It wasn’t like she couldn’t think of anything to do, on the contrary; she could’ve read a book, played video games, caught up on the shows she’d been meaning to watch but hadn’t had the time. Hell, she could’ve gotten drunk and just sat at her computer listening to music, she wouldn’t need to worry about breastfeeding Seeley the day after. But she didn’t feel like doing any of those things.

 _Why am I so sad?_ she asked herself internally, sighing deeply again.

The argument with her mother was weighing her down, that was an obvious one, but it wasn’t all of it. She wished it had been that simple.

 _Everything’s the same. That’s the problem, nothing’s changed, I want something to be different, but making a difference is kind of scary and feels overwhelming. And now I’m pre-emptively stressing out over change I haven’t even initiated yet. I wonder if anyone else gets like this,_ she scoffed to herself, got up and went to answer the door when there was a knock. She paid for the pizza (giving a generous tip for the speedy delivery) and headed back to the living room to eat.

She’d managed to find something to watch while eating and gotten one slice down when her phone rang. She humphed, wiped her hands and answered the call.

“Hey!” she greeted Helena.  
“Hi. Leon mentioned you called earlier, so I figured I’d call you back.”

“I didn’t have anything important, I just wanted to check in on you and chat,” Hunnigan said, folded up another slice and bit into it.  
“Well, I just woke up and I’ve gone from happily drunk to kind of hungover... and I think I might be getting sick,” Helena grumbled.

“Oh, no, do you have any cold medicine?”  
“Nah. I’ll live. I think,” Helena laughed and yawned. “So, how’s things over there?”

“Uhm, well, over here. I drove back today after I got into a fight with my mom,” Hunnigan chuckled awkwardly. Saying she’d ran from home after fighting with her mom felt like such a dumb thing to say at her age.  
“Wanna talk about it?” Helena asked. Hunnigan finished chewing and took a sip of cola before leaning to lay back down on the couch, not caring that her pizza would undoubtedly get cold.

“She called me a tall disappointment, which isn’t really anything new,” she laughed ruefully.  
“Well, your mom sounds like a delight,” Helena said sarcastically, “I don’t get why anyone would ever say that to their kid. I mean, unless the kid’s turned out to be a murderer or something worse, then I’d get it, but you certainly haven’t done anything to deserve remarks like that.”

“Doesn’t matter. Sure, I’d prefer if it weren’t like this, but it’s nothing new. Last time I left like that was a teenager. Nolan and I had rented an apartment here after we got accepted in the same university.”  
“You guys went to the same school and lived together? I don’t think I could’ve done that with Deborah. I mean, I love her dearly, but she would’ve driven me insane if I’d had to  share an apartment with her,” Helena laughed and Hunnigan smiled.

“I studied computers, he studied music, so it’s not like we had to share a lot of classes. And, well, I do like hanging out with him.”  
“Wait, I thought you said he’s your little brother, how did you attend school at the same time?” Helena then asked.

“Well, technically, he is my little brother, I’m about half an hour older, he was very reluctant to come out into the world.”  
“Oh, you’re twins! You could’ve just said that,” Helena said and Hunnigan could practically hear her smirk.

“I prefer saying he’s my baby brother, I feel like that gives me more of an excuse to be so protective over him.”  
“So, why did you get into a fight with your mother when you two moved out to go to school?” Helena inquired. Hunnigan switched to the earpiece and put the phone on the coffee table before turning to lay on her side on the couch, hugging one of the decorative pillows against her chest.

“I kept some stuff in my parents’ storage unit and I’d told mom I’d clear it out before moving, and I was doing it, but she kept bitching at me how lazy I am for not doing it, all while I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do,” Hunnigan began explaining the ridiculous argument. “I’d driven back and forth between D.C. and New York for a couple of days, and I go back for one more trip, and mom’s there, again telling me it wasn’t done like she thinks I should’ve done it, so I just lost it and started screaming at her. Like, it was ugly. Literally, I was ugly-crying and screaming. You ever get so angry you just... scream and cry?”

“Yeah, I have some idea what it’s like to get ridiculously angry,” Helena laughed softly.  
“Right,” Hunnigan scoffed amusedly. “Well, seeing how much she’d managed to upset me did nothing to deter her from going at me, so I ended up looking like the crazy one who was overreacting.”

“Yeah, I had you pegged for one of those people who avoid confrontation until you just explode and everyone thinks you lost your mind because they’re not used to you showing such emotions.”  
“Exactly. I’m guessing you don’t have that problem.”

“Not at all, I’m very quick with my fury,” Helena chuckled.  
“I like that about you.”

“What!” Helena exclaimed before bursting out laughing.  
“I do. It’s very honest. Plus, I know immediately if I’ve upset you. With me, you’d have to keep upsetting me for days before you’d know,” Hunnigan said with a smile.

“Maybe, but at least you stop and think things through before doing stupid shit because you’re angry,” Helena commented and took a deep breath to cough for a moment. When she could breathe normally again, she cleared her throat agitatedly.  
“Augh, I hate this crap, my throat is killing me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk.”  
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Helena asked.

“No! I just don’t want you to lose your voice.”  
“I don’t mind losing it talking to you. I like our talks.”

“I like them too,” Hunnigan said softly. That said, she couldn’t think of anything more to talk about. She didn’t want to dwell on what had happened with Isabela and she definitely didn’t want to keep whining about it to Helena. She felt her stomach grumble and glanced at the pizza still waiting for her on the table.

“Do you have anything to eat?” she asked Helena.  
“Um... I don’t know, maybe. Probably not.”

“Wanna share the rest of my pizza with me? I was really hungry and I ordered an extra large one, but I already know I won’t be able to finish it.”  
“I would love to, but I’m in no condition to drive.”

“I could come over?”  
“My place is a mess.”

“Okay,” Hunnigan said, deciding to drop it; it was beginning to sound like Helena was running out of excuses to not see her.  
“And I don’t want you to have to drive back and forth,” Helena then added awkwardly and Hunnigan frowned. Was that her way of saying she wanted her to pick Helena up?

“I’ve been driving a lot recently, so another trip back and forth wouldn’t be a problem, especially since it’s not like a four hour drive,” she chuckled. “So, if you want me to pick you up, just say the word, because I’d be happy to do it.”  
“...I would love that.”

“Great! I’ll be right over,” Hunnigan smiled and got up, the apathy-like feeling subsiding as she rather felt excited to spend time with Helena.

* * *

Helena could barely taste the pizza now that her nose was beginning to get blocked by the nasty flu which had already torn her throat raw, that was how it felt like at least. She kept coughing and clearing her throat, but the tickle remained and nothing came out, the dry cough becoming more painful than annoying which was what it had been up until she’d fallen asleep. Despite not being able to properly taste the pizza, she did devour four slices of it, growing hungrier with every bite she’d taken of the first slice.

“Oh, man. I shouldn’t have eaten so much but... I regret nothing,” Helena groaned and Hunnigan laughed.  
“Good!”

“Thanks for having me over. And for the pizza.”  
“Don’t worry about it, I’m glad to have the company.”

“I really don’t wanna wear out my welcome. Or get you sick too with all this coughing,” Helena then trailed off awkwardly.  
“Don’t worry about that either, you’re welcome to stay over if you want.”

“I don’t want to be a bother, you’ve already looked after me more than you should’ve needed to.”  
“I like looking after you. Speaking of, here, drink this,” Hunnigan said and took a seat next to Helena on the couch and handed her a mug, steam rising from it.

“What is it?” Helena frowned and peered into the mug.  
“Ginger tea with some honey and lemon in it. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Why are you so nice to me?” Helena narrowed her eyes and took a sip of the tea. Hunnigan laughed heartily and moved to sit cross-legged, tucking her feet underneath her calves to keep them warm.  
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked back, leaning against the arm rest. Helena swallowed the tea and shrugged one shoulder.

“I don’t know, I’m not used to people giving two shits about me, so I don’t know how to be when someone takes care of me.”  
“Well, how about you just try to relax and enjoy it?” Hunnigan suggested.

“That’s just it,” Helena shook her head, “I can’t do that. I don’t know how, and I feel like I’m bothering you.”  
“You’re not. Frankly, you’re doing me a favor because I don’t know how to be without having someone to look after, and now that Seeley’s with his father, I don’t know what to do with all my free time. It gets really quiet and lonely,” Hunnigan explained.

“So, what did you do before Seeley was born?” Helena quirked an eyebrow.  
“Well, there was Major. And Leon, babysitting him counts as a full-time job at times. Then there was my brother who’d get in trouble and needed looking after.”

“What did he do?” Helena asked and sipped the tea. Hunnigan shifted somewhat uncomfortably on the couch as she considered what to say about it.  
“He’s... the sensitive type who used to think he can’t make it through life without some crutches. Long story short, I’ve put him through rehab three times.”

“Oh. Poor boy,” Helena said and Hunnigan’s eyebrows rose at that. “What? I’m a sympathetic person, no need to look so surprised!”  
“Sorry, but you did surprise me,” Hunnigan laughed softly.

“Well, I get it tho.”  
“Anyway... my point is, taking care of others is what I do best, so I don’t mind.”

“Who takes care of you?”  
“I do. You know the saying, there are flowers and there are gardeners. I’m a gardener,” Hunnigan shrugged.

“Yay, I get to be a flower,” Helena batted her eyelashes and Hunnigan snorted.

The conversation wound down as they both turned their attention to the _Futurama_ -marathon on TV, and after a while, Hunnigan noticed Helena had drifted off to sleep. She switched the TV off, retrieved an extra blanket from the closet and draped it over Helena.

“Sleep well,” she smiled, turned the lights out and went to the bedroom. It was barely nine thirty in the evening, a little too early for Hunnigan to get to sleep, but she figured she might as well go to bed too.

 _What to do,_ she mused internally before deciding to continue reading the book she’d left open on the nightstand. _Or I could just masturbate, that was the original plan,_ she then thought, her movement to reach for the book interrupted before she picked it up, and instead settled to lay back down on the bed.

She rarely had a chance to masturbate because when Seeley was at home, he had the tendency to enter rooms without announcing himself and if she locked the door, he very loudly made it clear he didn’t approve of such action. Doing it before going to sleep was something she’d attempted often, but considering her work days could easily stretch out to be twelve hours long and exhausting, she almost always fell asleep after barely getting started. Rushing through it while Seeley was in his room taking a nap wasn’t ideal either because she knew herself and she knew she’d need at least and hour of peace and quiet, and she wouldn’t have that, she’d be too paranoid listening for signs of Seeley waking up to be able to clear her mind and truly enjoy herself. Not to mention the risk of him walking in on her was too much.

It was bad enough he’d gone digging in her drawers and he’d discovered her Ben Wa balls and she’d had to come up with something to tell him when he’d asked what they were (she’d felt rather proud of having quickly come up with a little white lie as she’d told him they were Christmas tree decorations, but she’d grown to regret it when he’d insisted hanging them on the tree this year), she certainly wouldn’t want to deal with the questions he’d have if he walked in on her masturbating.

 _Besides, I don’t even have anything to think about during,_ she then sighed internally. She knew it was utterly ridiculous, but she didn’t feel comfortable thinking about Major while touching herself, not when she knew he was seeing someone else. She doubted he’d care if he knew, on the contrary, he’d probably be smug about it. Then again, she admitted, he had earned the right to be smug, he knew how to manipulate her body until she was shaking at the heights of ecstasy.

 _No, not going there,_ she scoffed internally at herself, but her right hand happily ignored it, already resting on her abdomen, stroking her skin. _Not to mention Helena’s here, I don’t want her to walk in on me either._ _That said... I do wonder what she... okay, no, stop it,_ she blew out a breath.

But she did wonder what it would feel like. What her chest pressed to Helena’s would feel like; she hadn’t felt another woman’s breasts against her own before. She wondered what Helena’s breath would taste like, how would her hands feel on Hunnigan’s skin, what it would be like to kiss her. She looked like a good kisser, which was something Hunnigan couldn’t say about her ex-husband. For all the praise she was willing to give, this was something he’d been terrible at. His idea of kissing was to pucker his lips and just sort of peck at hers, it was very awkward most of the time.

Hunnigan turned to lay on her stomach, her right arm tucked between her hips and the mattress, she moved her hand between her legs, placing her fingers on her pussy and gently massaged the flesh. She already had some idea of what Helena’s skin against her own would feel like, she’d gotten a decent preview during that night they’d spent in the sleeping bag together. And if she was honest about it, she did have to admit she’d been on the verge of kissing Helena the morning after when they’d been in the middle of that silly staring competition she’d challenged Helena to. She hadn’t thought back on it, not really, but now... it was an exciting thought.

 _Oh, what the hell,_ she mentally shrugged and gave into the fantasy.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Helena woke up slowly, her head, chest and back aching, the need to cough tickling in the back of her throat. She held her breath, fighting the cough and managed to suppress it.

 _An unfamiliar ceiling,_ she mused as she stared at it. Turning to look to the side, she realized she wasn’t alone and she wasn’t on the couch where she recalled falling asleep at.

 _Why am I in her bed?_ she wondered silently, continuing to wonder how she’d gotten here. Had Hunnigan carried her here? Seemed unlikely. She was fit, but Helena knew herself to weigh a lot more than what one might guess based on just looking at her; she was solidly built and mostly muscle (despite the recent weight gain), she doubted Hunnigan would’ve had the strength to carry her, at least not without waking her.

 _She’s so beautiful,_ Helena sighed internally as she shamelessly stared at Hunnigan who lay on her back, left arm raised, her hand tucked underneath her head, the other resting over her abdomen.

 _Don’t you want to feel her skin?_ Sergeant Good’s voice whispered and Helena wanted to punch herself over hearing that.

_You want to think yourself so much above me, but you’re the same. The only difference is you haven’t learned how to drown out that annoying little voice inside you that tells you to stop when you think of doing something you really want to do. You should try ignoring it sometime. Who knows, things might end better for you._

Helena scoffed quietly. She hated Good’s voice, but as much as she despised it, she knew it wasn’t Good. It was her own voice, her own thoughts and feelings she’d masked and named after her abuser because that made it easier to accept. Owning up to some of the things she found Good’s voice telling her would’ve meant owning up to her own depravity.

_That’s it, isn’t it? If you stop blaming it on me, you have to accept all this filth oozes from your very own core._

“Core which you ruined to begin with,” Helena mumbled under her breath. Hunnigan inhaled deeply and turned to lay on her side, still asleep.

_It was rotten long before I got my hands on it. Maybe if you’d done things my way, you wouldn’t be here right now. You remember how desperate you were to kill Deborah’s shitty ex-boyfriend, you wanted him dead so badly it was all you could think of the days leading up to the moment you caught him at his apartment when he came back in town._

_“_ So what, anyone in my shoes would’ve wanted a guy like that dead,” Helena hissed to herself.

_Yeah, but not everyone would’ve gotten obsessed with killing him like you did, and the only reason you failed was because the lucky bastard moved an inch just as you pulled the trigger. You were going to kill him, but you only got the chance to shoot his ear off. If he’d died, you would’ve gone to jail for murder and maybe Deborah would be alive because you wouldn’t have drawn Simmons’s attention to yourself. But shooting a guy’s ear off? Piece of cake for someone like Simmons to ensure you’d walk away from that and serve him and his goals afterward. That’s the kind of a woman you are, Harper. You have wants and urges normal people don’t understand or approve of, so you tell yourself to stop, to not go through with it. It’s working for now, but sooner or later you won’t be able to stop. And that’s when the real you emerges. And that’s when you realize the only thing separating you from me is the label of your crime._

“Hey.”  
“Hunnigan,” Helena gasped, startled, expecting Hunnigan to have somehow heard her (mostly) inner dialogue while logically she knew it wasn’t possible.

“I’m here. Are you okay? You look... a little... off?”  
“Yeah, I just... your bed is so hard, how do you sleep on this thing?” Helena said, avoiding the question.

“Mmm, it’s good for the back, trust me,” Hunnigan laughed.  
“How did I get here?” Helena asked.

“You had a fever of one-oh-three and you were a bit delirious and sleepy... and in a strange place, so you took a wrong turn looking for the bathroom.”  
“Please don’t tell me I pissed on the floor, because if I did, I might have to seriously kill myself because of the shame.”

“Nothing like that, I got you turned around and when you were done, you came to sleep here instead of going back to the couch, nothing more dramatic than that about it,” Hunnigan smiled. Helena tried to respond, but her breath and words were taken over by a violent cough. Her breath sounded like small rocks being ground somewhere deep in her chest.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Hunnigan commented as she sat up.

“Feels worse,” Helena managed. Hunnigan reached to press her palm over Helena’s forehead and Helena quirked an eyebrow at that. She had to admit it felt incredibly nice to have someone take care of her, but the feeling didn’t last long before being shoved aside.

 _You don’t have the right. You have no right! You don’t deserve this! How dare you? After everything she’s already done for you, she’s having to look after you just because you have a little cold? Grow up, you whiny brat!_ her grandmother’s voice was eager to remind her.

“I think you might still be running a fever. I’ll go get the thermometer,” Hunnigan said, completely oblivious to Helena’s internal struggle.  
“Please don’t if it’s the kind that goes up the butt, because that’s exit only,” Helena called out after her.

 _Liar,_ Sergeant Good whispered.

“Well, that would give more accurate readings but I think we’ll both be more comfortable if we just settle for this,” Hunnigan laughed and before Helena even realized what was happening, she’d returned with the digital ear thermometer, tugged on Helena’s ear gently to straighten the ear canal and taken her temperature.

“Hundred and three still! That’s not good!” she said after reading the result.  
“It’s fine, I’m fine, I just need to take it easy for a while, I’ll be good as new in no time,” Helena assured.

“Why are you so adamant? This is serious.”  
“Look, I’m okay, I just... I just need to go home and get to bed.”

“Go home? Okay, you know what? Fine,” Hunnigan sighed in exasperation.

_Aw, now she’s mad at you. Imagine how unbearable a person you must be if Ingrid Hunnigan loses her temper with you, she’s got the patience of a saint, but you manage to get on her nerves too. Why are you even here? You shouldn’t have come here and bother her to begin with. Pathetic._

“I just don’t understand you right now, because one minute you tell me you like hanging out with me, and the next you can’t wait to get away from me, what is going on with you?” Hunnigan asked and went to take a seat next to Helena on the bed.

_Oh, even better, now you’ve made her doubt herself, and hurt her feelings. You ruin everything, you don’t deserve her friendship. You’re barely tolerable and you’ve already made her feel bad, again. You fucking stupid bitch._

“It’s not you, you haven’t done anything, it’s... I just don’t want to bother you, I don’t want to be a burden,” Helena muttered.  
“I already told you, you’re not bothering me and you’re definitely not a burden, I want to take care of you,” Hunnigan reasoned and Helena sighed deeply, her breath followed by a cough emanating deep from her chest.

“Come here, lie down, facing the floor,” Hunnigan said and patted her thighs and Helena quirked an eyebrow.  
“You want me to lie in your lap?”

“Trust me,” Hunnigan smiled. Helena did as she was told, trying to ignore the awkward feeling brewing inside her over the fact that she was sprawled over Hunnigan’s lap.  
“I don’t know if this actually does anything, but my grandma used to do this to me when I was sick, she said it loosens up the mucus in your lungs so it’s easier to cough out,” Hunnigan chuckled as she began to do gentle karate chops over Helena’s back.

“Well, who am I to argue with that logic,” Helena said, her voice vibrating to the rhythm of the chops.

* * *

Helena spent most of the day drifting in and out of sleep, she barely made sense of Hunnigan’s words when she informed Helena she’d be going to work for a while, but Helena should call her if she needed something. She was half asleep on the couch and woke up to the familiar sound of her phone ringing, but she didn’t register it at first, imagining the sound came from somewhere else. When she finally came to, she groaned, thumbed the answer-key and raised the phone to her ear, grumbling something as a greeting.

“Helena Harper?” a male voice on the other end of the call inquired.  
“Yeah. What?”

“My name is Colin Rutherford, I’m a prosecutor working on a case against Kassandra Good, I was informed that you were one of the privates she trained during-”  
“What do you want?” Helena interrupted impatiently, already having an idea of what it was he had on his mind, and already wanting nothing to do with it.

“I want to know if you would be willing to testify against her.”  
“What makes you think there’s anything to testify about?”

“Her statement, in which she specifically named you by denying she ever did anything to you, I guess she assumed you were the one bringing up the charges. I need your help to put her away.”  
“Well, seeing as I’m obviously not the victim responsible for bringing this to you, let the one who did testify!” Helena snapped agitatedly and was about to hang up when Rutherford spoke again.

“He’s dead, and his testimony alone won’t do it, you know that. I need a prior bad acts-witness or she walks.”  
“You manipulative cunt, what right do you have to put this on my conscience!” Helena yelled and sat up furiously, her phone making a quiet creaking noise under the pressure of her grip tightening around it.

“Because with your testimony about her prior bad acts I’ve got a shot at winning this, and the fact that she specifically named you leads me to believe you have knowledge of the worst of her bad acts. I don’t like pinning this on you anymore than you like hearing it, but I have to because I want to see her put away for what she did. Don’t you?”

“Don’t ever call me again,” Helena growled and hung up.

“Scam caller?” Hunnigan’s amused voice inquired from the doorway and Helena jumped a little, she hadn’t heard her come in.  
“Y-yeah...” Helena mumbled and put the phone down. Hunnigan paused as she was walking past the back of the couch and reached to put her hand over Helena’s forehead. Without a second thought, Helena found herself instinctively leaning into the gentle touch.

“I think your fever’s gone down a little,” Hunnigan commented and Helena almost fell forward when she moved her hand away and continued to make her way to the kitchen with the groceries.  
“Yeah, I do feel a little better,” Helena sighed.

“That’s good. Not that I mind looking after you, but you know what I mean,” Hunnigan said as she unpacked the items and put them away.

 _Oh, don’t mind her sugar coating it, you know what she means, don’t you? She wants you out. You’ve overstayed your welcome, little darling, you’ve done nothing to deserve this much caretaking, you never should’ve stayed,_ Helena’s grandmother’s voice told her.  

“I really should be heading home,” she muttered, reluctant to actually make it happen.

“At least stay for dinner, I have a feeling you haven’t eaten anything in over twenty-four hours,” Hunnigan called out from the kitchen, and Helena smiled. “And I bet you’re dehydrated too,” Hunnigan added when she came into the living room and placed a cold water bottle in Helena’s hand.

“You really don’t need to do all this.”  
“I know, but I want to because you’re my friend and I care about you, like I’ve said before.”

“I know you’ve said it before, I just... have a hard time accepting that someone would care about me, and I don’t know what to say or do in a situation like this,” Helena muttered. Hunnigan leaned to the backrest of the couch and turned her head to be able to look at Helena. For a while, she thought Hunnigan was gonna kiss her because she got so close, and Helena found herself already leaning in a little closer before coming to her senses.

“Well, you could try saying ‘thanks, Ingrid’ and drinking your water while I make us something to eat,” Hunnigan smiled before standing up straight and turning to go into the kitchen.  
“I don’t think I can do that.”

“Why not?”  
“Because calling you Ingrid feels completely unnatural to me,” Helena said and Hunnigan laughed.

***


	15. Chapter 15

Helena blew out a breath and ran her hand over her face. Paperwork was a pain in the ass, definitely not what she’d seen herself doing as a DSO agent. Granted, assuming that working for the DSO didn’t involve paperwork was something she’d assumed due to her own childish ignorance; the reality was it didn’t matter what kind of a super secret agent you were, paperwork was always going to be involved.

“Knock knock,” agent Jeri Hawke said from the door and Helena turned to look up.  
“Hey. What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to see if this... office, and I use the term loosely, actually exists, I thought it was an urban legend,” Hawke said as she looked around in exaggerated awe.

“Oh, it is real, and it is the best. No windows, barely any cell phone reception or Wi-Fi since we’re so deep underground, my mail almost never gets delivered... it’s a treat,” Helena listed, grinning sarcastically and Hawke scoffed, pulling out a stack of envelopes from behind her back.

“And that’s what I actually came over about, apparently the person delivering the mail can’t tell the difference between Hawke and Harper,” she said and handed the mail addressed to Helena to her.

“Thanks.”  
“No problem,” Hawke smiled, turned to leave but paused at the door once more before stepping out. “Hey, Harper?”

“Yeah?” Helena raised her gaze from the mail she’d began sorting through.  
“Would you have dinner with me?”

“Why?” Helena frowned and Hawke laughed.  
“Well, I tend to get hungry at least four times a day and when I do, I like to eat, and sometimes it’s nice to eat with another person.

“I meant why me,” Helena elaborated with a wry chuckle.  
“Why not?” Hawke shrugged one shoulder. “You’re tough. Hot. Exactly my type,” she added with a grin and Helena scoffed amusedly.

“You know what? Yes. Let’s do that. My shift ends at five.”  
“Same. I’ll come pick you up from here, I’d call you but I’m not sure your phone works in this bunker.”

“It doesn’t,” Helena laughed.  
“All right then. I’ll see you in a few hours,” Hawke smiled and left.

Helena put her mail aside and went to finish her paperwork, Hunnigan would want the field agents’ reports back early so she would be able to use the information in them to compile her own reports before being off-duty again for New Year’s.

Helena didn’t even realize the time passing as she got into her flow and typed up the rest of her report about the incident she’d been called to check out earlier today. Fortunately, it had turned out to be nothing more serious than a very convincing cosplayer, but he’d had a lot of questions regarding why a government agent would respond to a call about him, zombies weren’t supposed to be real. As far as the public was concerned, the outbreaks were about rabies, mad cow disease, drug induced psychosis... the list went on for whatever was most convenient at the time.

Helena wasn’t sure if she should be impressed at the fabrication or appalled by how easy it was to convince people that the people online screaming about zombies were crazy conspiracy theorists. That said, if she didn’t know better, she didn’t think she’d believe it either. Rabies or some new kind of fucked up drug causing the incidents was easier to accept than the truth, which was that countless people all over the world went missing every day and were probably used as test subjects by companies like Umbrella that made viruses for friends and foes alike as long as they had the money to pay for the product.

Countless people were killed, presumed dead, their bodies discarded, sometimes carelessly so, meaning they occasionally came back, and that’s when the risk of an outbreak became a possibility. That’s when agents like Helena were sent to investigate and determine whether action needed to be taken.

“You ready to go?” Hawke’s voice woke Helena from her thoughts, and she looked up, then at her wristwatch.  
“It’s five already?”

“Actually, I’m twenty minutes late, so, past five,” Hawke chuckled sheepishly.  
“Okay, let me just email this report to Hunnigan, annnd... there, we’re good to go,” Helena said, clicked on “send” and gathered her things before shutting down the laptop and heading out with Hawke.

* * *

“Are you nervous?” Hawke asked when they were seated at the restaurant and waited for their appetizers.  
“Should I be?” Helena quirked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. I’d rather you weren’t, but then again, I wouldn’t wanna be the only one who is.”  
“Why are you nervous?”

“Well, I mean, first dates are notoriously nerve-ra-” Hawke’s sentence got interrupted by Helena, who inhaled the wine she’d been taking a sip of.  
“Date?” she coughed into the glass and Hawke frowned deeply, her lips curving into an awkward smile.

“Uh, yeah? What else did you think I meant when I asked you to have dinner with me, and then called you hot and my type?” she chuckled.  
“I thought you were joking,” Helena said.

“I... was not,” Hawke muttered.

_You with a woman? Don’t make me laugh, you can’t even make a bed properly let alone lie in it with someone,_ Sergeant Good mocked in Helena’s mind, and she sighed deeply.

_I’m not listening,_ she thought agitatedly.

“Sorry, I didn’t... you know what, I don’t get how I didn’t see it,” Helena said.  
“So, this means my nervous breakdown over asking you out was for nothing,” Hawke joked.

“I find it hard to believe you had a nervous breakdown over me, you’re not the type who lacks confidence,” Helena pointed out and Hawke pursed her lips and tilted her head a little.  
“Yeaaah, you have a point,” she laughed.

The waiter came to take their orders while his colleague refilled their wine glasses. Once they were left alone again, Helena inhaled deeply and tried to think of something to say. It was becoming increasingly difficult now that she was thinking of this as a date.

“So... are you... close to your family?”  
“As close as I can be considering. My mother and my sister live in London. My uncle lives here, and he agreed to take me in when I wanted to move to the US when I was eighteen. Got my green card, joined the navy, and boom, ten years later, here I am.”

“What did you do in the navy?”

“I was in the law enforcement and security, a master at arms, but that career wasn’t exactly going anywhere until I got my citizenship. When I got that and my security clearance, I was recruited into the DSO practically the moment my documents were handed to me,” Hawke smiled.

“Let me guess, Hunnigan recruited you?” Helena asked, remembering rather fondly her first interview with Hunnigan. If she was honest, she’d spent an inappropriate amount of time staring at Hunnigan’s legs and biting her tongue to keep herself from saying the dumbest thing imaginable -namely, ask her if her legs went all the way up. That phrase didn’t make sense when used in the appropriate setting, it certainly would’ve gotten her ass thrown to the curb from the DSO.

_I’m sure it would’ve gone down in history as the shortest DSO career,_ Helena mused, not that her career had even had a chance to start then before her transfer had been cancelled.  
“Yeah, she’s efficient as hell,” Hawke nodded. “I’m convinced she was stalking me,” she then added jokingly, and Helena laughed.

“Well, no offense, but I do think she has better things to do.”  
“Don’t you sit there stopping me from flattering myself,” Hawke smirked.

“Too late,” Helena scoffed amusedly. “So... do you have any pets?” she asked then to keep the conversation going, unsure what to talk about, and more than glad that Hawke hadn’t asked her about her family, that was a mess she didn’t feel like getting into.

“Yes, a dog. His name is Grunt,” Hawke said, dug out her phone and turned to show a picture of a large, completely black Cane Corso.  
“That’s a dog? I would’ve thought it’s a bear,” Helena marveled.

“He’s a great dog. One time I got home and realized my apartment had been broken into, and Grunt was just sitting at the bedroom door, staring at the closet and growling. The burglar was hiding from Grunt in my closet,” Hawke said, and Helena laughed.

They continued chatting and getting to know each other throughout the meal, and while Helena did find herself genuinely enjoying Hawke’s company, she did feel an uncomfortable awkwardness brewing inside her whenever she considered that this was supposed to be a romantic setting. She doubted Hawke had fallen in love with her any more than she had with Hawke (which was not at all), but she assumed that or some form of it was the goal here. Helena wished she knew how she would tell Hawke it wouldn’t happen without hurting her feelings.

Simply blurting out “I’m not going to have sex with you, and I do not see myself becoming romantically interested in you” would’ve been honest and direct, but also incredibly rude, lacking all discretion. Helena didn’t like rude and she hated being considered rude even more.

“Listen, Hawke...” she muttered once they were done with dessert. Hawke raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue. “I need to tell you something before you get the wrong idea. I like you, a lot, but only as a friend. I don’t really see us becoming the love story of a century.”

“Who said anything about love, I was talking about good, old-fashioned lust,” Hawke chuckled softly, and Helena paused for a moment, trying to figure if she had heard any hurt in Hawke’s voice. There wasn’t any as far as she could tell, she was being sincere about her interests, which made this a little bit easier for Helena.

“Oh. Well, um... that’s not really an option either,” Helena said.  
“Really? Damn.”

“Yeah, I don’t... I don’t like sex,” Helena disclosed, and Hawke blinked in surprise.  
“In that case, I can in all sincerity and honesty say, I have never met anyone like you,” she commented with an amused scoff a few good seconds later.

“I guess,” Helena laughed awkwardly. “But I really like you, as in I like spending time with you, maybe we could be friends?” she suggested, hoping she didn’t sound quite as pathetic as she felt.  
“I would like that,” Hawke nodded with a smile.

“Wonderful. To new friends,” Helena smiled back and raised her glass.  
“To new friends,” Hawke repeated after her and they drank.

* * *

“Have you seen Helena?” Hunnigan inquired after poking her head into Leon’s office. He leaned back in his chair and raised his arms over his head, interlacing his fingers behind his head.  
“I have and she’s very pretty,” he jested and Hunnigan rolled her eyes. She should’ve seen that comment or something similar coming.

“Very funny. She was supposed to send me a report, but she forgot to the attachment from the email.”  
“She went out with Hawke. Like on a date,” Leon informed her and Hunnigan stood in stunned silence for a long moment.

“Oh. Good for her,” she commented, and Leon quirked an eyebrow.  
“But?” he drawled.

“But what?”  
“I can sense the but, it’s there, just say it,” he grinned and Hunnigan scoffed wryly.

“But I’m not sure if Hawke is right for her.”  
“What’s it to you, why do you care?” Leon asked, his question seeming simple and innocent enough, but when Hunnigan began to answer it, she realized what he’d been going at.

_I’m jealous,_ she thought, but instead she told Leon: “Because Hawke is so quick to make light of everything, and Helena’s the serious type, I just think she’ll get annoyed with Hawke’s inability to be serious.”  
“Uh-huh, or maybe they’ll balance each other out,” Leon commented.

_Why am I jealous? Oh, this is like first grade all over again when Nolan stole all my friends. Well, he didn’t steal them, they just preferred hanging out with him. That’s it, I’m jealous because Hawke’s taking away my only friend,_ Hunnigan reasoned, and while it felt accurate, she couldn’t say it was all there was to it.

“Sure, that’s a possibility,” she shrugged an answer to Leon.  
“Is there anything I can do with the reports or whatever?” he then asked, already knowing she wouldn’t accept his help, because when it came to reporting, he was about as useful as a chocolate coffee pot.

“No, you should head on home, I’ll just send my report forward without hers included and go home too,” she smiled.

When she got home about an hour later, Hunnigan found herself uncomfortable with the silence that had taken over the apartment. Aside from the occasional sounds coming from the neighboring apartments or the sounds of the dogs barking in the backyard across from her building, it was so quiet she couldn’t help but feel lonely. In addition to that, the silence annoyed her because it left her with no other choice but to hear the low humming noise in her right ear, accompanied by a muted whiny noise in the left. Until it had happened to her, she hadn’t known one could get tinnitus from tense muscles.

She turned the TV on for some background noise while she made herself dinner (rice and chicken with a peppery cream sauce).

_I miss Helena,_ she sighed internally when she sat down to eat. _And I miss Seeley, I should call Major,_ she then mused, deciding she’d give him a call after eating. The call didn’t last very long and not a lot was said, Seeley just mumbled something shyly before handing the phone back to his father.

“Josie and I were just thinking about taking him to the movies, you’re welcome to join us if you want?” Major offered and it took Hunnigan a good few seconds to remember who the hell was Josie.

_Josephine, right,_ she rolled her eyes at herself.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to intrude.”  
“It’s not a problem, really.”

“Major, think about this. If you were Josephine, would you want your boyfriend’s ex-wife tagging along?”  
“Well, probably not, but-”

“Trust me,” Hunnigan chuckled. “It’s fine, and I do want Seeley to have a chance to get to know her properly without me interfering, so thanks for the invite, but no. I just called to ask how Seeley’s doing.”

She wished them a good evening and ended the call. When she looked at the screen, she noticed she’d gotten a message during the call.

“What the hell?” she laughed. Helena had sent her an image of cat which had an utterly shocked expression on its face, and she’d captioned it “That feeling when you realize you forgot the attachment from the email”.

_It’s okay, I made up some numbers to cover for you,_ Hunnigan replied.  
_Isn’t that technically fraud?_ Helena messaged and Hunnigan snorted.

_Indeed, and if you tell anyone, I will have you assassinated,_ Hunnigan wrote back and added a smiley face to the end.

It wasn’t fraud exactly, and Hunnigan was relatively certain no one would even notice since she could pretty well predict the amount of expenses Helena’s report would’ve added to the total, and really, it was the total anyone was looking at, they wouldn’t bother with the details unless the total went over the budgeted amount by a noticeable sum which would warrant investigation.

_How was your date? Leon mentioned you and Hawke had gone out,_ Hunnigan then sent, not wanting to end the conversation.  
_It went ok, hawke’s fun to hang out with but we’re just friends. did you know she has a dog that’s as big as bear?_

Hunnigan smiled, she’d met the slobbering, panting, huge dog, and she’d discovered quickly he was an intelligent and well-behaved dog, she could’ve sworn it understood everything said to it. She sent Helena a message telling as much.

Hunnigan had to admit she felt relieved when Helena told her she and Hawke were just friends. If there was something she’d learned from her past friendships, it was that when it came to choosing between spending time with a love interest or a friend, people often chose their love interest, at least in the beginning. She would’ve hated to have lost Helena to Hawke after just befriending her.

_Yo! We still on for New Year’s?_ a new message read, this time sent by her brother Nolan. She let him know she’d be over at his place as planned, and then asked him if he’d be okay with her possibly bringing a friend. After he’d told her to bring anyone she wanted, she spent the rest of the evening texting back and forth with him and Helena about the plans.

It wasn’t until Helena’s message in which she said she needed to go to sleep that Hunnigan realized how late it was getting.

_I fondly remember a time before the invention of text messages when you could just call someone, and make and confirm plans within two minutes,_ Hunnigan wrote before wishing Helena good night.

_LOL i can’t remember what i did with all that extra time back then. good night Ingrid._

“Huh, she called me Ingrid,” Hunnigan said out loud and felt a smile spread on her lips, unsure why Helena calling her by her first name made her smile, but happy over it nonetheless.

***

 


	16. Chapter 16

“When I told you I’d be here, I didn’t expect to be doing so much catering,” Hunnigan muttered to her brother as she helped him put frozen hors d'oeuvres in the oven and then went on plate the previous batch.  
“Well, that’s entirely on you because I never gave you any reason to assume otherwise,” Nolan said with a grin, grabbed a wine bottle and headed back to the living room to entertain his guests. 

“Is it smart for him to be drinking? I mean, you mentioned he’s been in rehab more than once,” Helena said and went to give Hunnigan a hand.

Nolan’s kitchen (much like the rest of the rather impressive apartment) was decorated with minimalist furniture, and steel and stone, giving the space a somewhat sterile overall look, not at all nice and cozy and homey, but exactly the kind of place one would expect a rich guy like Nolan to have; the more stuff you could afford, the less you held on to, hoarding everything “just in case” was a problem for the lower middle class and below.

“It is not, but according to him, his problem was never with alcohol, just with cocaine and opiates. And that’s true, but it’s also true he’s playing with fire in a shed full of gunpowder,” Hunnigan sighed, picked up the plate and carried it to the living room, replacing an empty one on the coffee table with it before returning the empty plate to the dishwasher. 

“You don’t have to stay with me, go mingle, have fun,” Hunnigan then told Helena.  
“Truth be told, I’d rather stay here with you than risk being hit on by your brother again,” she smirked.

“That’s a shame because I really enjoyed watching you put him in his place,” Hunnigan laughed, picked up her wine glass and went to stand next to Helena, both of them now leaning their backs into the island in the middle of the kitchen, looking over to the living room while they waited for the batch of hors d'oeuvres to be ready. 

Helena smiled. Nolan was handsome (although he looked like a twenty-something kid since he’d shaved his face, but Helena hadn’t commented on that, she didn’t want him to know she’d watched his videos in which he’d still had the handlebar mustache and lengthy stubble) and rather charming, a shameless flirt for certain, but his inability to take no for an answer had forced Helena to somewhat embarrass him in front of his guests (which hadn’t been something she’d really wanted to do). When he sang “Welcome to the gun show, we’ve got mass and veins” to the tune of Guns ‘n’ Roses’ “Welcome to the jungle”, and showed off his biceps while giving a suggestive wink and a grin, she hadn’t been able to stop herself. 

“You’re cute, but mine’s bigger,” she’d told him and mimicked his pose, showing off her bicep which was only slightly bigger, but noticeably better defined. He’d shrugged it (and the sniggers from his guests) off with humor, remarking that Helena didn’t know it yet, but clearly, she was his future wife. 

The timer went off and Hunnigan went to pull the hors d'oeuvres from the oven and proceeded with the familiar act of transferring them onto a plate before heading out to serve them. With a resigned sigh, Helena followed her out to the living room, quickly proceeding through it and stepped outside to the terrace.

She draped a quilt over her shoulders and lit a cigarette, looking over the snowy courtyard and parking lot surrounded by the buildings in the area. The penthouse apartment was large, by Helena’s guestimate at least 1500 square feet, possibly over. When she’d complimented the place to Nolan, he hadn’t missed the opportunity to casually mention it had cost “only” six hundred thousand dollars, money he’d made writing various commercial jingles. She’d expressed her skepticism but when he’d listed a few of the jingles he’d written, Helena understood why he would’ve made that kind of money; every one of them was one of those extremely popular ones that got stuck in your head. 

“Add to that what I make from producing, sponsorships, soundtracks, and from audiobranding, six hundred thousand is pocket money,” he’d told her proudly. 

_What are you doing here? You don’t belong with these people, you don’t have anything to offer to anyone, not even in a simple conversation, you’re just embarrassing yourself._

“Huh, there you are, you’ve been awfully quiet recently,” Helena muttered to her grandmother’s voice exhaling the cigarette smoke deeply. She tensed up a little when she heard the door open, followed by the sound of people entering the terrace, lighters clicking as the others coming for a smoke break lit their cigarettes.

“I’m just saying, when it comes to mass murders, everyone’s always talking about Hitler, but no one ever mentions Stalin.”  
“Those numbers are exaggerated, their kill count is around the same, but the difference is, Stalin was in power for a lot longer, meaning Hitler killed the same amount of people in way less time.”

“You idiots are completely ignoring the fact that it’s not the dictators that got people killed, it’s communist ideals that caused it all and made it possible, and not just in Russia and China. Look at Cuba, for fuck’s sake. And then people walk around wearing fucking Che Guevara-shirts, having no idea that the guy was to Cuba what Hitler was to Germany. Fuck those people.”

Helena put out her cigarette despite there being almost half of it left; this was a conversation she didn’t want to get dragged into. She gave an uneasy smile as she slipped back inside from between the slightly drunk and agitated guys, and let out a breath of relief upon managing to escape the scene before getting asked for her opinion. She had no interest in debating history or politics, nor did she have the time and energy for it either, she had her hands full just living and doing her job today.

_Oh, so you’re better than them because you don’t have the luxury of having the time for inconsequential debates? You’re so hard-working and productive, is that it? You’re not. You’re an uneducated moron who doesn’t know enough to even form an opinion on something as commonly known as the subject those three were discussing. You’re a woman-shaped battering ram, not the kind of a person anyone could have an intellectual conversation with. You’re good at hurting people, that’s all. You’re useless. You shouldn’t be here._

“Is your sibling rivalry still alive?” Helena heard someone ask, followed by the sound of Hunnigan letting out an amused snort.  
“I don’t think it’s really much of a rivalry really since he never wins,” she said.

“Of course, you realize, this means war,” Nolan narrowed his eyes. “Twenty bucks says tonight is the night you lose.”  
“Make it a hundred and I’ll happily whoop your ass,” Hunnigan replied. 

“Deal,” Nolan said and produced several bills from his wallet, Hunnigan doing the same and placing the money on the table over his. Helena went to take a seat on the couch and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, curious to see what would come of this. 

Within a few minutes, _Guitar Hero_ had been set up and the siblings stood by each other holding guitar-shaped controllers, bickering over which songs they should play. Not that the choice of songs mattered in the end because as predicted, poor Nolan didn’t stand a chance.

_art commissioned from[devilsarm](https://devilsarm.tumblr.com/)_

* * *

“I love this painting. Who is she? Or did you just find the painting from a random marketplace?” Helena asked and pointed up at a large wooden frame featuring a painted portrait of a woman with dark skin, brown hair, and amber eyes that made Helena think of a tiger’s eyes. She wore a bicorn hat on her head, large gold earrings and more gold around her neck, she was grinning and appeared to be rolling a coin between her fingers. 

“That’s our great-great-great-great-great-great...” Nolan went on until Hunnigan rolled her eyes and slapped her palm over his mouth. 

“A distant ancestor from our mother’s side, pirate queen Isabela. According to the stories my grandmother used to tell me, she was quite the badass. Story goes she used to tear open her shirt to show her breasts to the men she’d defeated in duels, but I think that was something a lot of female pirates did, not just Isabela.”

“Tits out for murder!” Nolan proclaimed, his words and voice slightly muffled by Hunnigan’s hand which was still over his mouth.  
“Why would she do that?” Helena frowned as Hunnigan yanked her hand away from Nolan’s face when he deliberately drooled on her.

“To humiliate the men, to make sure the last thing they knew before dying was that they lost a duel to a woman,” Nolan answered, failing at his attempt to duck when Hunnigan wiped her saliva-covered palm into his shirt.  
“My kinda lady,” Helena raised an eyebrow and grinned. 

“Then you’re gonna love our mom. I mean, she doesn’t tear her shirt open when she humiliates men... as far as I know, but other than that, based on what I’ve heard of the pirate queen, mom’s definitely her reincarnation,” Nolan said and Helena chuckled. Based on what _she’d_ heard from Hunnigan about their mother, she sincerely doubted she’d get along with her.

It was getting close to midnight and everyone moved to the terrace to see the fireworks that would soon be lighting the sky. Helena went to lean to the railing and it wasn’t long before Nolan made his way over to her.

“What?” she frowned when she saw his grin.  
“Well, you know what they say, you’re in for a miserable lonely year unless you get a kiss at midnight on New Year’s eve,” he wiggled an eyebrow. 

“Don’t even think about it.”  
“I’m already thinking-” Nolan was saying before being interrupted by Hunnigan who pinched his ear between her thumb and forefinger and pulled him away. “Ow, bitch! That really hurts!” Nolan snapped and grabbed Hunnigan’s wrist, digging his thumb deep on its underside, pressing into a nerve, forcing Hunnigan to let go of his ear. 

“Motherfucker!” Hunnigan hissed and managed to flick the backside of her hand against his face before he pushed her away from himself.  
“Do you guys need to be separated?” Helena scoffed.

“I’m going, I’m going. Jesus, no need to go all Isabela on me,” Nolan smirked, walked past his sister and went to mingle with his guests.  
“Sorry about him, he’s a persistent bastard, and used to getting everything he wants because that’s how he was raised,” Hunnigan scoffed. 

“Well, at least he has great taste in women,” Helena grinned.  
“On that we can agree,” Hunnigan chuckled and took a drink from her wine glass, completely oblivious to how her remark had made Helena’s heart swell. 

 _Don’t flatter yourself, she’s just being polite. And she wasn’t defending you, she was defending her brother from embarrassing himself and possibly being sued for harassment,_ her grandmother’s voice didn’t waste any time bringing Helena back to reality from the little high.

Hunnigan leaned her side to the railing, facing Helena and regarding her with a smile. Helena couldn’t think of a response, her mind preoccupied with how much she wanted to take advantage of the moment to steal a kiss under the guise of New Year’s tradition, then internal debate with herself over all the reasons she should not even consider doing something like that. 

 _Hunnigan knows you’re gay, she would assume it meant you were in love with her even if you weren’t, you know how straight people can get, they think themselves irresistible to the gays in their lives. If she thought you were straight, she probably_ would _kiss you because she’d think you don’t get off on it,_ Helena mused, not sure what to call this voice within her. Perhaps Reason because so far it was the most reasonable one dwelling in her head.

 _But I_ am _attracted to her, so she wouldn’t be wrong to assume I’m getting off on it,_ Helena argued with herself. 

_And you don’t want her to know that, all the more reason to not do anything._

“Do you want to-” Hunnigan began to say, her words interrupted by the fireworks that went off without a warning or a countdown, and the people on the terrace cheered, raising their glasses to a new year.

* * *

By two in the morning, Helena had learned that drunk-Hunnigan had the most ridiculous laugh, it kind of reminded her of drunk-Stewie from _Family guy_ , only slightly less loud, and she’d learned that she found said laugh adorable. She’d also learned that when it came to drinking, neither Hunnigan or Nolan had a pit stop between happily drunk and wasted, they simply switched over from one to the other without any warning and no one was the wiser of the switch happening until something like a friendly match of slap cup turned into a screaming match ending in the twins yelling the words “This is why mom doesn’t fucking love you” to each other in almost perfect unison, a certain aura of familiarity shadowing the happening, implying this was the usual result of them having too much to drink while in each other’s company.

Helena had not learned what Hunnigan had intended to say before being interrupted by the fireworks a couple of hours prior and frankly, that bothered her more than everything else that had happened since. She considered just asking about it, but the moment had passed. Not to mention Hunnigan didn’t seem to be in any condition to answer. 

“Ow... shit,” Hunnigan breathed heavily after Helena had managed to help her home and to bed.  
“What’s wrong?” Helena asked as she picked up the boots Hunnigan left on the floor, followed by a trail of the clothing she’d managed to remove before slumping onto the bed. 

“My boobs hurt. I need the thing,” Hunnigan slurred and made a fist with her hand.  
“What thing?”

“The squeezy thing, what the fuck is it called?”  
“You mean a breast pump?” Helena suggested and Hunnigan snapped her fingers before holding the index finger up high.

“Yes!”  
“Okay, well, I’ll go get it for you, where is it?”

“...in New York. I left in a huff after I got into a fight with mom and I forgot it in the dishwasher there, and then I was like, fine, I’ll just stop, it’s not like Seeley _needs_ it, and perhaps mom was right about me doing it just to feel important in someone’s life, God knows no one else needs me for anything. But don’t ever tell my mother I said she might be right,” Hunnigan said. 

“I won’t,” Helena smiled wryly and would’ve wanted to take a moment to let Hunnigan know she needed her, very much so, but she didn’t have a chance before the taller woman spoke up again.  
“I figured I’d squeeze out what I needed by hand and wait to dry up, but apparently my body thinks it’s a fuckin’ dairy farm.”

“What do you need?”

 _You could offer to just suck it out,_ Sergeant Good’s voice said and Helena could hear the villainous smirk in it. 

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, but it did nothing to banish Good. She didn’t even know why she still bothered trying, the intrusive thoughts never having ceased their assault before regardless of her actions or attempts at distracting herself with something else. She supposed it came down to simply not wanting to go down without a fight.

“A warm towel,” Hunnigan answered and Helena nodded. 

_Don’t act like you hadn’t thought about it, wondered what it would feel like to have her milk spill over your tongue, what it would taste like. Sweet, I’m guessing._

Helena rolled her eyes at herself as she soaked a small towel in warm water and then wrung it before heading back to the bedroom to give it to Hunnigan. 

_There’s no need to be so embarrassed, you’re hardly the only one in the world who has a mommy-fetish. Besides, in your case, it makes sense, it’s not like the actual mother-figures in your life nurtured you and offered unconditional affection. Hunnigan’s been mothering you since she took you under her wing in the first place, and let’s face it, she’s taken better care of you in the past couple of years than your flesh and blood-mothers ever did._

Helena averted her eyes when Hunnigan removed her shirt and bra, draped the warm towel over her breasts, and proceeded to give her breasts a massage. 

_You’re sick._

_Oh, there you are,_ Helena thought when her grandmother’s favorite thing to call her crossed through her mind. 

“Gimme a hand, hey, will you?” Hunnigan requested, and Helena frowned, not sure what to respond, assuming Hunnigan had meant she needed a hand expressing the milk.  
“Yeah, sure,” she said upon realizing Hunnigan was requesting assistance in getting up from the bed. She walked Hunnigan to the bathroom and stayed outside the door in case Hunnigan needed her help again.

_How dare you even think yourself worthy of her affection? It never occurred to you that nobody has ever loved you simply because you are unlovable? Blame me or your parents all you want, it doesn’t change the fact that you were always the problem. You don’t deserve to taste her._

Helena closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, mentally listing movies she’d seen, reciting song lyrics, trying to remember the names of the kids she’d gone to school with, anything to distract her mind and silence the voice, but it was only a temporary solution. 

_She knows what it is like to create life, what it feels like growing inside, what it feels like bringing it to the world, what it means to sacrifice yourself to protect and provide for your creation, what it means to be a mother. Compared to you, she is the goddess of all creation, and you’re only capable of destruction, you’re unworthy. How dare you even assume she would care for you? How dare you assume to have the right to feel her and taste her?_

“She doesn’t care, she shouldn’t, and she won’t, I get it, just shut up already, I feel bad enough for now,” Helena mumbled softly to herself. She perked up when she heard a crashing noise from the bathroom.  
“Are you okay?” she knocked on the door.

“I’m fine. At least I think I am,” Hunnigan’s voice called out. “Is that blood?” she added, sounding genuinely amazed by the fact that it might be, and Helena exhaled deeply as she decided she had to go check.

Hunnigan was on her knees in front of the bathtub, her bare back facing the door. There were shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel bottles scattered on the floor and lying on their sides on the edges of the corner shelf against which Helena assumed Hunnigan had crashed her head. 

“If anyone ever tells you Ingrid Hunnigan doesn’t know how to party, tell them about tonight. Or, actually, don’t tell them all the details,” she smirked as she gripped the edge of the tub and pushed herself upright only to end up falling in the opposite direction. Helena lunged to her and managed to catch her before she hit the hard tile floor. 

 _“I dun feel sho ghud,”_ Hunnigan snuffled, her head lolling back against Helena’s shoulder as Helena helped balance her against the edge of the tub.  
“Hang on a bit,” she said and stood up, reaching to open the medicine cabinet. 

“What are you doing?”  
“You have a little wound on your head, I’m just looking for something to clean it with and patch you up with,” Helena said, picked up the items she needed and stood on her knees behind Hunnigan then. 

“Your breasts are incredibly soft,” Hunnigan said when Helena urged her to lean her head back so she could clean the wound while still helping Hunnigan to keep from falling down.  
“And yours are hopefully feeling better?” Helena said somewhat awkwardly, keeping her eyes fixed to the little gash on near Hunnigan’s temple, looking now like a little extension to the tip of her eyebrow. 

“Uh-huh. You know what?”  
“What?” Helena asked and put a band-aid over the wound.

“I have a great view into your nostrils from here,” Hunnigan said and then laughed that ridiculous yet oddly adorable drunk-laugh, and Helena couldn’t help but laugh with her.  
“Glad you enjoyed it,” she said. “Are you done here, can I take you to bed now?” 

“Yes, thanks,” Hunnigan said and Helena helped her up. “Wait, wait, I gotta rinse the tub or it’s gonna spoil,” she then protested when Helena was about to move her toward the door.  
“I’ll clean up in a minute, okay?” Helena promised and escorted Hunnigan to bed before turning and going to rinse out the tub and put the fallen bottles back on the shelves. 

“You okay?” she asked from Hunnigan once more after exiting the bathroom.  
“Yeah, I just... I think I aggravated an old injury,” Hunnigan mumbled as she sat on the bed and rubbed her right shoulder. Helena was torn between feeling relieved and kind of disappointed when she noticed Hunnigan had put on a T-shirt, both emotions overrun by a sense of irony when she considered she’d done everything in her power to avoid perving at Hunnigan’s breasts when they’d been right there but was now lamenting them being covered. 

“What happened?” Helena inquired and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“I got injured during a basketball game in college, one of the other players rammed into me while I was in the middle of dunking the ball, sent me flying into the pole holding the basket up, smashed my shoulder pretty badly, and thanks to that, it acts up now and then,” Hunnigan said.

“Do you have any painkillers?”  
“I’ve got aspirin which probably won’t help, and Oxy, but mixing opiates and alcohol is more Nolan’s thing,” Hunnigan groaned and lay down.

“Yeah, let’s not go there,” Helena agreed and tucked Hunnigan in. “Will you be able to get to sleep?”  
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Okay.”  
“Helena?”

“Yeah?”  
“Will you stay with me? I don’t like being alone, and... frankly, I’m alone quite a lot nowadays,” Hunnigan muttered.

“Of course,” Helena agreed, removed her outer layer of clothing and got in bed. 

She lay on her back, her hands folded over her stomach, thinking how ridiculous it was of her to feel this awkward and stiff around Hunnigan when in the past she’d been more than happy to straight up cuddle with her in a sleeping bag. But that had been before she’d come to realize she was genuinely developing feelings for her. Cuddling now would mean more to her than it would to Hunnigan. It would end in pain for Helena because she’d feel guilty over enjoying it more than Hunnigan knew, and because she’d want more. Wanting more of something that was next to impossible to get was a pain she could do without. Unfortunately, Hunnigan didn’t know that and had other ideas. 

She gripped Helena’s wrist and nudged her arm up until she’d created herself a sweetheart’s cradle to snuggle into. She scooted closer to Helena and pulled the blanket over them, putting her arm around Helena’s midsection and tucking her feet between Helena’s calves, completely shameless in the act of stealing her body heat, ignoring the surprised mewl and squirm from Helena when her cold extremities made contact with her skin. 

“Admit it, you’re not lonely, you just wanted someone to use as a heater.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Hunnigan said and slipped her hand under the hem of Helena’s T-shirt, flattening her cold hand over Helena’s lower abdomen while pressing the back of her other hand against the outer side of Helena’s thigh. Helena exhaled deeply through her nose and resisted the urge to move Hunnigan’s hand away. 

She didn’t mind it being cold, she didn’t mind the touch (on the contrary), but she didn’t want Hunnigan feeling the little bit of extra softness that had gathered there, she didn’t want Hunnigan to feel the raised scar tissue marking her skin. Helena didn’t want Hunnigan to become aware of all the flaws she wore nowadays, internal and external.

“Why did you want to kill yourself?” Hunnigan asked, surprising Helena, who had thought she’d fallen asleep already.  
“Because I hurt inside,” Helena responded in a mutter. 

“Can I do something to help fix it?”  
“...no,” Helena whispered, a rueful smile on her lips as she considered the friendly offer. “But thanks for asking.”

“I don’t want you to die. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I love you,” Hunnigan said quietly and tilted her head back to be able to press a firm kiss on Helena’s cheek before nuzzling into the side of her neck.

“I’m... not going anywhere,” Helena swallowed hard, struggling to keep her heart from swelling at the words and the gesture, ultimately losing the fight, having to admit that for one precious moment, she felt genuinely happy.

* * *

When Helena woke up, it took her a moment to figure out what it was that had woken her. She recalled where she was and with who, and couldn’t help but smile a little at the fact that she’d ended up sharing a bed with Hunnigan again, it was becoming a common occurrence, one that she quite enjoyed, perhaps a bit more than she should’ve; she was well aware that all she was doing was setting herself up for getting her heart broken if Hunnigan ever questioned the nature of their friendship and Helena would be forced to admit her feelings toward Hunnigan were rapidly growing beyond what could be considered just friendship.

She was barely willing to admit to herself that she was attracted to Hunnigan, she certainly would never dare to admit as much to her. She dreaded Hunnigan’s reaction and didn’t even want to try imagining it. She didn’t dare to imagine what it would be like if Hunnigan _did_ reciprocate her feelings. It was so unlikely daydreaming about it would be a waste of time and would only make the longing for having something she couldn’t worse. So, she denied it from herself, admitted she would not say no if Hunnigan made a move, but would never expect her to. 

It was depressing but at the same time, there was a certain joyfulness about it. It was exciting having a crush on someone; the butterflies in her stomach when she arrived at work and saw Hunnigan’s car in its designated spot at the underground parking lot beneath the DSO headquarters, the way her heart leapt when she saw Hunnigan, the way talking to her and being near her just instantly made Helena feel better. Nothing more would ever come of it and that was sad, but what she was already getting out of it made it worthwhile.

Hunnigan made a pained sound, and Helena realized that was the noise she’d woken to. Helena sat up and turned to face Hunnigan. 

“Hey...” she whispered and put her hand over Hunnigan’s forehead. Her skin was pale and clammy, and her hair damp with sweat. “Hunnigan, wake up,” Helena said, and had to repeat it a few times before Hunnigan finally opened her eyes, breathing heavily.

“I feel terrible,” she grumbled and sniffled. “Why is it so hot in here?” she asked and kicked the blanket off of her body. It wasn’t hotter than the average room temperature, but Helena didn’t bother correcting her on that.  
“How’s your shoulder?”

“Not great. Oh, shit. I think I’m gonna puke,” Hunnigan groaned, sat up and blew out a few deep breaths before hurriedly scuffing into the bathroom.  
“Oh dear,” Helena winced a little at the loud, violent retching sound that followed quickly after the bathroom door closing. Helena took the time to go grab a tall glass of water for Hunnigan, she had a feeling the other woman would want it when she got back. 

“This is the worst hangover I’ve ever had, how much did I drink?” Hunnigan muttered after making it back to the bed, her skin still pale and sweaty.  
“You were pretty drunk but I don’t think it should’ve resulted in a hangover this bad,” Helena frowned.

“Wait until you’re over thirty and every hangover lasts at least two days and you feel like you’re dying for the most part of those two days,” Hunnigan smirked and accepted the glass of water Helena offered her. She asked Helena what had happened last night and drank the water as she listened to Helena recount the events and fill in the gaps. 

“That explains why my everything hurts,” Hunnigan commented, finished her water and rolled her neck a little. “Well, almost explains it, I have no idea why my jaw hurts, I guess I hit it too when I fell into the tub,” she added and put the glass on the bedside table.

“Your jaw?” Helena repeated and Hunnigan nodded as she lay back on the bed and blew out another deep breath before tugging on her shirt in an attempt to cool off, the fabric clinging to her sweaty skin. Helena went to refill the glass  and made a detour at the medicine cabinet.

“Take these,” she said as she handed Hunnigan the water and some aspirin before grabbing her phone.  
“Who are you calling at this hour?” Hunnigan frowned.

“Nine-one-one.”  
“Because I have a bad hangover? Talk about overreacting,” Hunnigan scoffed amusedly and lay back down, assuming Helena was joking about who she was calling. She wasn’t.

“No, I’m calling an ambulance because I’m pretty sure you’re having a heart attack.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone interested in seeing the Isabela-painting, [click here to see the piece on Tumblr](https://zazrichor.tumblr.com/post/181838685891/up-for-a-game-of-wicked-grace)  
> And if you have never seen drunk Stewie and have no idea what the laugh I was referring to sounds like, well, here's a YT link to [drunk Stewie](https://youtu.be/VddsozLKevw)


	17. Chapter 17

“Count back from one hundred.”  
“One hundred...”

_I am going to die. I suppose it’s okay, I don’t really have anything I’d need to finish. Seeley will be fine, he’s so young he won’t even remember me so he won’t know to miss me, and Major will take good care of him. My life’s work is a joke, at least according to Skylark, what was it she said? Something along the lines that I’m just a glorified navigator. So, no one will miss me there. My friends... I don’t have any friends. The few I thought I did only wanted me because they wanted my brother, so also not a problem. Helena’s got Hawke. Leon’s got Claire and Sherry and half of the BSAA, not that he ever really considered me a friend-friend, I don’t think. A work-friend, maybe, but not the kind of  friend you’d hang out with, not like he does with Helena. My family... they never needed me unless there was something I could do for them, so they won’t miss me; they might miss the favors I did, but that won’t be my problem._

“Ninety-nine...”

_I don’t want to die, but if I have to, I’m okay with it. Who knew. After all the shit I gave Helena about wanting to commit suicide, I think I shouldn’t be this fine with the thought of dying myself. Maybe I’ve been wanting to die too but never even realized it._

“Ninety-eight...”

_“Good luck, love. See you in recovery,” she said. I’m going to miss her._

* * *

 

Helena sat in the waiting room, her arms crossed over her abdomen, leaning back against the wall behind the chair, her eyes closed. She’d been here for hours and had no intention of leaving until she knew what Hunnigan’s status was. For now, she was still waiting to be operated on, and that’s all Helena knew. 

She heard someone enter the hall and didn’t pay attention to it any more than she’d paid attention to the other people walking through, not until she heard Hunnigan’s name mentioned. She turned to look and saw Major at the receptionist’s desk.

“Major,” she said to the tall man and he turned to her.  
“Hey! Um... Helena, right?” he recalled and Helena nodded. “What the hell happened? Ingrid called me and said she needed to talk to Seeley and tell him she loves him because the staff wasn’t sure if she’d make it. Make it from what!” 

“She had a heart attack.”  
“She’s thirty-four, she’s too young to have a heart attack, she doesn’t even smoke,” Major scoffed in disbelief, running his hands through his thick dark auburn hair, his entire being the definition of a man on the verge of panicking. 

“She had something called spontaneous coronary artery dissection which basically means there’s a tear in one of her major arteries and it hasn’t healed, and over time, blood’s clotted around the tear and it led to a heart attack. It’s a pretty common heart problem in young females,” Helena explained to him as calmly as she could, unable to keep from feeling the twisting and tugging of panic beginning to brew in her core as well, as if seeing him carry it had infected her too. 

“Jesus Christ.”  
“They’re gonna do a bypass... it’s a pretty routine procedure, there’s nothing to worry about,” Helena tried convincing him.

“Yeah? Then why did the people here tell her to call Seeley and tell him she loves him like she wouldn’t be able to do it later!” Major snapped. Helena quirked an eyebrow, not unsympathetic, understanding that getting agitated in a situation like this was more than normal. What bothered her wasn’t his reaction or that he was taking out his frustration on her; what bothered her was how terrified of losing Hunnigan he genuinely was. 

_I think he’s still in love with her._

“Because she was told that by the nurse in the emergency room and he’s no cardiologist, he was just making sure there wouldn’t be any regrets. She’s going to be fine, trust me on this,” Helena said, managing to keep her concern to herself as she worried that telling Hunnigan “Good luck, love, I’ll see you in recovery” through the narrowing doors sliding shut between her and Hunnigan would be the last thing she ever spoke to her. She couldn’t afford to lose it now. She’d have a meltdown in private later, have a good cry as the adrenaline from being terrified all this time would step aside, everything pouring from her to ease the anxiety she felt. But not yet. Not until she knew Hunnigan was in recovery. 

“Shit. What am I going to tell Seeley?” Major sighed as he ran his hand over his face, his beard making a quiet scratching sound as his palm slid over it. 

“I don’t claim to know the first thing about Hunnigan but I don’t think she’d want Seeley to know and worry. Just be normal and ask Hunnigan if she wants to see him once she wakes up. She might not want him to see her in a hospital, so it could be you’ll have to tell a few white lies to your son, can you do that?” Helena asked and Major nodded as he listened.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, she wouldn’t want him to see her like this, you’re right,” he repeated himself.  
“All right. Good. So, just... calm down and let’s wait until we know what the situation is, okay? Someone should be around to tell us something soon, just sit tight. I’m gonna go get us some coffee, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Major agreed and took a seat. When Helena returned several minutes later with two paper cups of coffee, Major was talking to a woman in scrubs, apparently the surgeon who’d operated on Hunnigan.

Helena felt her heart freeze over as she saw their body language, the surgeon’s hand on Major’s shoulder, his head hanging low. It didn’t look good.

_Oh, God, please, please, don’t take her away,_ Helena thought frantically. The surgeon said something Helena couldn’t hear, and Major nodded once more, Helena reading the word “okay” from his lips as the surgeon offered a wry smile to him before turning to exit the area. 

“Well?” Helena asked, trying not to sound as demanding and urgent as she felt.  
“She’s in intensive care, they said it would be a couple of days before she’s going to be in any shape to see visitors, but she’s gonna be okay, thank God,” Major smiled, tears of relief brimming his green eyes.

“Good, good, that’s excellent news,” Helena said, suddenly feeling like she might throw up when the knots in her stomach loosened at the good news and a wave of calm flooded her senses, the relief almost overwhelming.  
“The surgeon said there’s nothing to do here for now, we should head home,” Major said.

“Yeah... you’re right. Um, do you have her brother’s contact info? Or her parents’? I figure they might want to know,” Helena then said.  
“Oh, yeah, don’t worry about it, I’ll let ‘em know,” Major promised. 

“All right, great. I’ll... see you around,” Helena muttered and exited the building. 

Once outside and safely away from the entrance, she dug out a cigarette and lit it, realizing only then her hands were shaking. She’d managed to take the first drag when she felt her mouth flood with saliva and she doubled over. She leaned against a lamp post, retching loudly as her body convulsed from the reaction, finally released when the sour-tasting contents of her stomach splattered on the sidewalk, causing people who’d been walking toward her to cross the street and rather take the other side, possibly thinking she was a drug addict in withdrawal, or at the very least drunk.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Helena groaned and spat repeatedly to expel the stubborn string of sticky saliva that refused to break and kept on clinging to her lower lip. “I need a drink.”

* * *

The last thing Hunnigan could remember before waking up groggy and uncomfortable was counting back from one hundred.

_Ninety-seven,_ she tried to continue but she couldn’t speak, the tube inserted in her windpipe preventing that. When she glanced around the room and down at herself, she realized it wasn’t the only tube sticking out of her body, the bed surrounded by noisy machines keeping tabs on her vitals. Her mouth had never felt as dry and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d overall felt quite as uncomfortable as she did currently.

She hadn’t been awake for long before people came into the room, checking up on her, making sure she was coherent, asking her to sit up if she could. They then proceeded to explain to her what they’d be doing next, namely, removing the breathing tube.

“All right, now give me a big strong exhale,” the man performing the extubation said and Hunnigan complied. “There we go, good work,” he smiled. Hunnigan couldn’t say she fully agreed, but the coughing fit she had prevented her from making a remark at that moment.

“Well, that was about as unpleasant as I figured it would be,” she finally said hoarsely.  
“You’ll feel better in no time,” he assured her.

“I’m sorry but I assume I’ll need more than a minute to recover from having my chest cracked open and my heart tinkered with.”  
“Well, fortunately, Mrs. Hunnigan...”

“It’s ‘Ms’,” she interjected.  
“... _Ms_ Hunnigan, fortunately, we didn’t have to resort to such drastic measures, you’re lucky you were brought here, we’re fully equipped to handle performing minimally invasive surgeries,” the man said, obviously proud of his employer’s capability. 

_I’m sure it’ll show on the bill,_ Hunnigan thought but said out loud: “Could someone tell me what happened?”

He proceeded to tell her what had caused her heart attack, continuing on to the details of her surgery, repeatedly bringing up how fortunate it was that they were able to go ahead with the less invasive option because “recovering from it will take less time and the scar won’t be as noticeable”, and Hunnigan wondered if he was trying to convince her to leave a positive review or why he was coming on so strongly about how absolutely awesome this place was.

_Maybe someone died and they’re being sued and could use the good press,_ Hunnigan mused. _Or maybe he’s a born salesman and just doesn’t realize it._

“We’ll keep an eye on you here for a couple of more days before moving you to another unit for the rest of the recovery time.”  
“I feel fine, can’t I just go home?”

“Oh, I’m sure you do, but I assure you, once the drugs wear off, you’ll be glad you’re here and hooked up to a bag of it,” he smirked. “Speaking of, there’s the PCA-pump, don’t hesitate to use it if you need it.”  
“Okay.”

“Do you have any other questions?”  
“No, I can’t think of anything.”

“All right. Try to get more rest, and I’ll talk to you later.”  
“Thanks.”

* * *

Helena took several deep breaths in an attempt to try and calm down her heart. She could feel every beat pulsing in the back of her head, the pain thumping up her scalp, down her neck, over her forehead. She’d been hungover before but this was a special kind of “fuck you for poisoning me”-pain that her body radiated, the kind that followed the nights she’d stayed up too late and smoked way too many cigarettes. 

“Oh, fuck, where am I?” she muttered when she realized she had no recollection of what had happened after she’d arrived at the bar, downed two or three supersized Zombie Punches, laughed at her friend the bartender Jane’s joke about being busier than a one-legged woman at an ass kicking-contest, Jane emphasizing her joke by knocking her knuckles against her prosthesis, and then... no data available. 

She looked around the room, realizing wherever she was, the one room was pretty much all there was to the apartment. She could hear water running beyond the wall right by the bed and assumed whoever lived here was in there. The bed was nice, comfortable, not too soft and not too hard, the blanket thick, the pillow the expensive memory foam-kind. But looking around more, she realized the bed was pretty much the only thing the owner had invested in. 

There were no tables, just milk crates and sturdy cardboard boxes that served as surfaces on which various items and books rested. No TV, just a laptop sitting on an old, repainted wooden chair. The walls were exposed brick, the entrance to the apartment covered with a sliding metal door, locked only with a screwdriver that had been inserted through the hasp. 

She was about to wonder who on Earth lived like this when she realized this could easily be how she lived if it weren’t for a few lucky coincidences (or, well, Simmons’s meddling followed by more meddling, that time performed by Hunnigan), it wasn’t like there were a lot of jobs available for people like her, people who were prone to violence and didn’t have much of an education or experience that would be useful in civilian life. She supposed she could’ve gone back to the military, but... after what she’d seen, she didn’t think she would’ve lasted long there either.

Helena pulled the covers aside and sat up (her body rewarding her with more pulsing pain in the back of her head) realizing she wasn’t wearing anything other than her tank top.

“Oh, shit. Shit!” she hissed. The water stopped running in the bathroom and Helena frantically looked around for her clothes, not seeing them, then covered herself with the blanket then when the bathroom door opened. 

“You’re awake, good! Feeling great, I expect?” Jane chortled as she dried her wet auburn hair before draping the towel over her shoulders, the rest of her body exposed, but Helena had never recalled her being the shy type and frankly, in the military, modesty wasn’t really an option a lot of the time. 

“Where are we?” Helena managed as she watched Jane walk over to the chair at the back of the room and take a seat. She removed the white acrylic shower leg and began patting herself dry. 

“We’re just above the bar.”  
“You live above the bar?”

“Yeah, and amazingly, I’m still almost always late for work,” Jane laughed and reached to grab a silicone liner from atop of a milk crate. She turned it inside and out and began to roll it onto her leg.  
“Does this bother you?” she then paused to ask.

“Why would it?” Helena frowned.  
“People are usually fine with amputees, but tend to get weird if they actually have to see the stump. No, sorry, correction, the ‘residual limb’, which apparently is the politically correct word for it nowadays, but I personally have more important things to worry about than what people call my _stump_ ,” Jane rolled her eyes, slid her leg into the prosthetic and stood up, walking in place for a moment, listening for the tell-tale clicks that told her everything was properly secured.

“I was more disturbed by witnessing how you ended up having a stump in the first place, so this is nothing,” Helena assured with a wry smile, unable to keep an unpleasant memory from briefly flashing in her mind’s eye. There’d been so much blood, and it had been so loud. The bullets and rockets flying at them, obviously, but not just that. It was the screaming she couldn’t dispel from her memory no matter how much she tried. 

It wasn’t like in the movies because regardless of how good an actor someone was, there was no way to replicate anguish and pain like that, not without genuinely suffering it.

The screaming. The explosions. Even the hum of the flames eating up the overturned vehicle, all of it, just so loud. 

“Well, good,” Jane said as she worked to put the fairing in place over the leg, her voice snapping Helena back to reality. Helena noticed the fairing consisted of an intricate pattern or swirls, webbing, and vines.

“That looks cool.”  
“Thanks, designed it myself,” Jane smiled.

“So... are you gonna tell me what happened, and where are my pants?”

“You downed a shitload of rum, then switched to beer despite my objections and despite the fact that you should know better than to mix alcohols, pick one and stick with it or your hangover will be even worse,” Jane explained, buttoning her shirt. “Then you started crying over something I couldn’t quite get all the details of, but I presume you’ve fallen in love with a married woman because you kept going on about a husband, then it was closing time and you said you didn’t want to go home because there was no beer there, so I brought you up here.”

“And my pants?” Helena dreaded to ask, the heat of embarrassment burning her face as she listened to the retelling of the various ways she’d fucked up last night. 

“Don’t worry, nothing tawdry happened, you just kicked them off, yelling that your pussy needs air,” Jane smirked and nodded toward the foot of the bed where Helena’s jeans and underwear lay bunched up. “You spent the night spooning me and here we are, no harm done.”

“Thanks for bringing me here, I don’t want to imagine where I would’ve ended up at if you hadn’t,” Helena said and pulled her underwear on.

“Probably freezing to death in a ditch somewhere, can’t let that happen to the woman who saved my life. I guess this makes us even, though, I gotta say your story of saving a life is way more heroic than simply walking a drunk friend up the stairs,” Jane laughed.

“Didn’t realize we were keeping score,” Helena smirked and zipped up her jeans. Someone knocked (or banged the side of their fist more like) on the door, the metal making a thunderous noise which didn’t do Helena’s headache any favors. 

“Jane Palmer?” a male voice inquired once Jane had slid the door to the side.  
“Well, my friends call me Jane Fucking Palmer, but yeah, that’s me, what can I do for you?”

“You’ve been served. Have a nice day!”  
“No, I will not have a nice day!” Jane yelled after the man as he disappeared from view. She closed the door and opened the paperwork as she walked back and took a seat on the bed.

“Trouble?”  
“Bla-bla-bla, ‘You shall appear in Judge Honeycutt’s courtroom on February 9th 2014. If you fail to appear, a warrant’... bla-bla-bla,” Jane read the subpoena, then folded it up and threw it across the room. 

“Did you piss someone off so badly you're being sued?"  
“Yeah, God, probably judging from how much everything sucks,” Jane smirked. “Anyway, forget that. Get dressed and we’ll get you some hair of the dog that bit you.”

***


	18. Chapter 18

Hunnigan had spent about a day and a half mostly sleeping. The times she’d been awake, she’d been rather out of it, partly due to the medication, partly because she was just so damn tired. She couldn’t remember much. She could remember her parents had called, and that her mother had called her “kitten” (something she’d done less and less frequently over the past few years), but that was all she could remember of that conversation. She recalled having told Nolan and Major things she’d at the time felt were profound and deep-

_What if we’re part of a story that someone’s writing?_

-things that were downright rude-

_Okay,_ _salope, pourquoi je me moque de ta musique, chatte? Putain de gros cul de fromage burger._

-and things that were just out of it-

_If I’m a cat, why do I sound like a horse on helium?_

-and she could recall them chuckling at it all when they’d been present to witness her gibberish, but that was it. Not that she believed she’d missed much other than the incessant beeping of the machines she’d been hooked up to. 

The past couple of days she’d felt better, and today she felt ready to go home. She missed Seeley, and Major had asked her if she wanted him to bring him to visit her, but she’d told him no, she didn’t want Seeley to see her like this. When Major had told her Helena had figured that much too, Hunnigan realized Helena hadn’t been to see her at all. Not that it was surprising, Hunnigan was relatively certain the hospital only allowed family or spouses (which Major still was according to the hospital’s records, Hunnigan made a mental note to update that) to visit patients in the intensive care unit, but somehow Hunnigan expected that if Helena had wanted to see her, she would’ve been here. 

_Well, maybe she just didn’t want to see me. Or maybe she just didn’t want to cause trouble by insisting she gets to visit. What difference does it make anyway._

Hunnigan didn’t know why it mattered so much, why it bothered her, but it did.

Major had informed director Shepard of Hunnigan’s situation, and she’d be off-duty for two weeks. She’d been told she would need at least six weeks to recover fully, possibly more, but fortunately her work wasn’t the kind that required her to physically push herself to the limits, so she didn’t think she’d need more than two weeks off anyway. She knew Shepard would allow her to take off more time if she needed it, he’d probably insist on it even, but frankly, Hunnigan didn’t think she could afford it. She dreaded to imagine how much her stay at the hospital would end up costing her even after what her insurance covered. 

_The way that one guy went on about how awesome the team handling my surgery was I assume we’re talking about sums well over my annual income before taxes,_ she sighed internally. _What luck that I ended up here, though. Otherwise they really would’ve cracked open my chest,_ Hunnigan thought as she changed, feeling happy to be out of the hospital gown and back in her own clothes, namely a T-shirt, hoody, and jeans _._

_Wait,_ she then frowned when the realization hit her. It probably wasn’t a lucky coincidence at all; odds were Helena had known about this place and had specifically had her brought here. 

Hunnigan decided that a thank you would be in order, for many reasons, this one being the most recent. She dug out her phone from her pocket and dialed Helena’s number, sitting on the edge of the bed to talk while waiting for Major to come pick her up. When the call was answered, Hunnigan had to momentarily pull the phone away from her ear because the background noise was so loud.

_“-with toast, you idiots,”_ Jeri Hawke’s unmistakable accented voice said in the distance.

_“Wait, did you say ‘toes’ or ‘toast’, because putting that on your toes is a whole other business,”_ Leon said, his voice followed by one Hunnigan didn’t recognize.

_“You just lost the fight for your right to party.”_

“Harper.”

_She’s at a party or at a bar, maybe having an after work-drink. Of course she is. What did I expect, that she’d sit around at the hospital waiting room all this time? And why would I even expect that from her? From anyone, really, but especially her, she has no obligation toward me. Frankly, she’s already gone above and beyond,_ Hunnigan thought. 

“Hi, it’s In-,” she began to say but corrected herself, “...Hunnigan. Just wanted to catch up and say thanks, but it sounds like I’ve caught you at a bad time, I can call you later.”  
“Oh, I’m so glad to hear you’re okay. You _are_ okay, aren’t you?” Helena asked and Hunnigan smiled at the concern, it was nice to know someone cared.

“Yes, I’m fine, and I believe I have you to thank for it.”  
“Don’t mention it,” Helena chuckled. 

_“You have to, Kennedy, you’re my butler!”_ Hawke yelled in the background.  
_“Do it or I’ll kick your ass,”_ the unknown female voice said.  
 _“With what?”_ Leon laughed loudly.

“Jane, put your leg down!” Helena suddenly yelled, the exchange followed by a brief commotion. Hunnigan frowned, wondering what the hell was going on over there as she waited for Helena to come back on the line. 

“I’m gonna call you later, or you can call me when you’re not busy, I just wanted to check in,” Hunnigan spoke when Helena finally got back to her.  
“No, no, it’s okay, I want to talk- Jane! Put! That! Down!”

Hunnigan was beginning to wonder if Jane was a person or a misbehaving pet because judging from the way Helena was speaking to her, either could have applied.

“I’m hanging up now, I’ll talk to you later,” Hunnigan spoke loudly and thumbed the screen to end the call. 

She didn’t have to wait for much longer until Major showed up to ask if she was ready to go. She told him she was, she’d been signed out and given instructions on what to do next, and she had her first post-operation appointment scheduled. She had told Major she could just call a cab, but he’d insisted; he always had been the sweet and attentive kind.

“Seeley’s with Josie, I thought you might want to settle in before I bring him over,” Major said as they got into the car. 

Hunnigan felt disappointed, and a little jealous when she considered her son had so quickly become so comfortable with a woman he barely knew that he could be left alone with her without risking him crying after his father. She couldn’t help but feel like she was being replaced on every frontier of life. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, especially not when she thought about her son forgetting her for another mother-figure. 

_Well, what did I expect? I’m never home, and when I am, I’m on the phone or reading my emails while barely paying attention to him, I bet Josephine has the time and patience to play with him for more than five minutes. Maybe he would’ve been better off if I’d died and he could stay with Major. If I were half the mother I pretend I am, I would’ve let Major have custody because I know he’s the better parent and Seeley would be better off with him, but I’m too selfish to allow that._

“Ingrid?” Major spoke, and Hunnigan realized she hadn’t yet responded to him.  
“No.”

“No?”  
“No, I want you to bring my son home.”

“He’s my son too.”  
“Don’t. Just don’t, I have zero patience for this now, just bring him back.”

“Are you sure that’s a-” Major began to ask but swallowed the rest when Hunnigan gave him the level ten-death glare. “Right,” he nodded instead.

Once home, Hunnigan had to bite her tongue to keep herself from snapping at Major when he fussed over her, constantly asking if she was sure she didn’t need anything or if he should stay over. She finally convinced him to just go home and exhaled deeply when the door closed behind him. After several days in the hospital and after constant noise either from the machines or from the staff or other patients, the silence that draped itself over her felt overwhelming, but in a pleasant way. 

Hunnigan decided to take a quick shower to get rid of that sterile hospital-smell that she felt was still clinging to her skin and hair. She paused to look at the scars from the surgery in the mirror. The swelling and bruising were fading, and the wounds themselves were rather small, and the bigger one a little higher mostly disappeared underneath her breast. Not that aesthetics were her main concern, but she had to admit she was relieved, especially when considering the alternative of having a long scar split her chest right in the middle. 

After showering, she dried off and dressed in a loose T-shirt and pajama pants, heading to answer the door shortly after dressing when the doorbell rang. It was Major who had brought Seeley home as Hunnigan had told him to. 

“Mommy!” he yelled happily and instantly raised his arm toward her, expecting her to pick him up. Hunnigan was under strict orders to avoid any kind of lifting, and instead dropped to her knee and pulled him into a hug, swaying him back and forth gently (ignoring the stinging pain in her side as she moved) as she peppered his cheek with little kisses that made him giggle. When Hunnigan looked up, she realized Major hadn’t come alone but rather with a woman Hunnigan had to assume was Josephine.

She had black hair, full lips, and a subtle beauty mark beneath the right corner of her mouth, near the edge of her jawline. But what really caught Hunnigan’s attention was the color of her eyes; they weren’t blue or green or something in between, they were more like grey with barely a hint of blue-ish shade, the irises surrounded by a subtle ring of amber.

“I figured you two might as well meet,” Major said, apparently oblivious to the slight awkwardness of the situation. Timing had never been his forte.  
“Josephine Montilyet,” she introduced herself.

“Ingrid... Del Rey,” she responded, deciding at the last minute to use her maiden name. Like updating her emergency contact information, changing her surname back her maiden name had been on her to do-list for quite some time, and remained one of those things she kept putting off. 

It would involve so much paperwork, and she’d have to get all her ID badges updated, she’d need to change her username at the agency systems (something she was capable of doing herself but would’ve had to route through the tech guys regardless because unbelievably, she didn’t have administrator rights to her work laptop, and bypassing it by hacking would’ve required her to answer questions later and who the hell had time for that), and even after jumping through all the hoops to be officially known as agent Del Rey, everyone would _still_ call her Hunnigan anyway. But in this case, calling herself Del Rey made sense, made this feel somehow less awkward. 

“I hope you’re feeling better,” Josephine said.  
“I am, thank you. And thanks for looking after Seeley, I know he can be a handful.”

“Nonsense, he’s my special little guy, and he’s no trouble,” Josephine smiled and the boy smiled back. 

Your _special little guy?_ Hunnigan thought somewhat bitterly, realizing how childish she was being but knowing that doing nothing to make her feel less petty. It also did nothing to keep that sinking feeling from dripping through her when she saw Seeley reach toward Josephine for a hug.

Shortly after the introductions, they said their goodbyes and Hunnigan closed the door before kneeling beside Seeley to help him unzip his jacket and take his backpack (which weighed barely anything since all he’d packed was a small motorcycle-shaped stuffed toy and a kitten-shaped one) off from his shoulders. 

“So, what do you wanna do, little dude?” Hunnigan smiled at him.  
“Watch the ponies?” he suggested and Hunnigan chuckled.

“Yeah, that does sound like fun, let’s do that,” she nodded. 

Not long after that, they were on the bed, the theme tune to _My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic_ playing in the background from the laptop’s speakers as Hunnigan lay down, Seeley sitting on the bed, using Hunnigan’s midsection as a backrest to lean to. Hunnigan didn’t quite share her son’s interest in the antics of the animated ponies, so she reached for her phone. Helena hadn’t called her back. 

_I don’t know why I expected her to._

When she lay down she caught a scent clinging to her pillow and blanket. Helena’s perfume. it was faded, but still recognizable, hints of citrus mottled with sandalwood and some kinds of herbs; a fresh and light scent, somewhat masculine but most of all, it was very... Helena. 

Hunnigan nuzzled the spot on the edge of the blanket and inhaled the scent. It had quickly become familiar, one that she’d become to consider almost soothing because she associated it with being near Helena, and that never failed to make her feel better.

***


End file.
